Familiar Voices
by financebabe
Summary: Stephanie has to stay hidden in the home of her great-grandparents to protect and care for one of the guys. Will the voices she hears help her find her way, or prove to be too distracting to complete her assignment?
1. A New Assignment

_None of the characters below are my creation. JE gets all the joy of making that claim._

_Jenny (JenRar) you make writing so much more fun. Thank you for agreeing to work with me as the beta on another story._

**Chapter 1 – A New Assignment**

"'Lo," I managed to croak out, only answering my phone to make it stop ringing, since whoever this was kept calling back in the middle of the night instead of leaving a message like a normal person would.

"Babe," came Ranger's voice on the other end of the line. Well, there you have it; I'd never call Ranger a normal person, so that mystery had been solved.

"I'm asleep." I managed to use real words this time, since the idea of Ranger calling me in the middle of the night definitely woke me up enough to talk, but not enough to open my eyes. He'd been gone for the last six weeks on a mission, and it made sense that he'd let me know he'd returned – although we definitely needed to talk about appropriate hours for these kinds of status updates in the future. A Facebook page might work...I just couldn't imagine Ranger sending out friend requests.

"I need your help," he replied with his rock steady voice.

The fact that he needed help at all, especially from me, took from me from semi-conscious to fully alert and sitting up, albeit wobbly. "Are you okay?" I blurted out, picturing the worst. The image from the Scrog fiasco flashed before my eyes, and I feared that he was injured and bleeding and wondered how I could do anything over the phone.

"I'm fine."

He calmed me down with those two words so that I fell over sideways, still holding the phone to my ear with one hand. My other hand was over my heart, as though reminding that important organ it had to stay in my chest, despite the temporarily panic.

"What's going on?" I asked, not intending to be rude, but hating the feeling something major was going on and I was in the dark about it.

"Manny's hurt," he said, the steady level of his voice breaking slightly on the last word, before he added, "badly."

And the next hill of the rollercoaster was upon me, so I sat back up, still holding my hand over my heart. Manny wasn't one of the Merry Men that I was closest to, but he was a part of the RangeMan family, so whatever happened mattered to me – a lot.

"We were on assignment, some things went down that hadn't been disclosed to us as possibilities, and I think ghosts from the past were able to get the jump on us. There was an explosion, and Manny got caught too close to the impact," Ranger was giving me details he would normally gloss over, so I knew he was in a bad place in his head if his editor hadn't fully engaged yet.

"Is he going to be all right?" I asked, not sure how I'd handle the answer if it wasn't yes.

There was a crinkling sound over the line, and I envisioned Ranger rubbing over his face with his hand before answering. "I hope so – I think so, eventually, but that's where I need your help."

"Tell me what to do," I instructed, getting out of bed and trying to find a pair of jeans from the dirty clothes basket without any stains so I could wear them again to be ready to move as soon as Ranger gave me my marching orders. Hmm, when I had more time, I'd have to think about when I started incorporating military lingo into my vocabulary.

"Do you remember when Manny got shot a few years ago?" he asked cryptically.

I had to think back to exactly what he was talking about. Ranger had been accused of being the one to pull the trigger at first, so I'd gone to the hospital to get Manny's version of what happened, but I had to pretend to be his wife to get access to him. "Yeah, I remember lying to the nurses and saying we were married."

I heard him exhale on the other end of the line, as though relieved. "We knew this was going to be a shit assignment, with a high likelihood of one or both of us getting hurt. I told him the day before we took off to get his legal affairs in order, and he apparently took my advice. The problem is, he rescinded his medical power of attorney so that RangeMan can't represent him."

"I don't understand," I blurted out. "Why would he do that?"

"There are some things about this mission that were personal to him, and I don't think he planned on coming back. The problem is that things blew up, literally, much sooner than he planned, and now he's completely unconscious at St. Elizabeth's in New York."

I still didn't see how I could help if Manny was in New York.

Fortunately, Ranger kept talking. "I can't go anywhere near him without blowing my cover and his. He is still in extreme danger, but legally, I can't get him out."

"Come on, Ranger," I encouraged. "You've never let something like a little legality get in your way, have you?"

"This isn't legally gray; it's completely in the black here, Babe," Ranger returned, obviously willing to accept Manny's demand that Ranger not intercede in his medical care. Then he muddied the water by adding, "Plus, the government is going to want to keep tabs on him so technically my interference with their control of him as he heals would be seen as obstruction."

"What do you need me to do?" I figured he must have something in mind if he'd interrupted my sleep to tell me all of this.

"Manny doesn't have a next of kin. His whole family is gone," Ranger picked up again, making my heart ache for Manny. I might have a crazy annoying group of relatives, but I also knew that I'd always have a place to call home if I needed it. "So legally, the only person that can go into that hospital and begin to demand he be transferred is Manny's wife."

"He's married?" I asked, and as soon as I said it, I knew what Ranger wanted me to do. "Wait a minute. If you going in there and busting him out is so far out of the legally gray area, then how is me impersonating a spouse and doing it somehow acceptable?"

"By the time you get there, we could have it set so that you aren't really impersonating a spouse," Ranger cryptically stated.

"You're going to have to say more than that," I demanded.

"We can get you all the documentation you'd need to substantiate your claim that you two are married. Then, get him out of the hospital and back to Trenton, and we can dissolve all the papers we had to create for you to get him out of there," he partially explained.

"And what if Manny doesn't want a pretend wife coming in and taking over? Don't you think I'll lose a little credibility when my husband begins telling everybody that we aren't married?" This plan had more holes in it than a colander.

"He's unconscious, and from what Bobby's been able to gather, it's doubtful he'll be waking up for quite a while. It's going to take him a while to get over this. Some of his injuries…" I could hear the strain in Ranger's voice before he left the last part unsaid, so I knew I had to help.

At that point, he stopped talking, leaving me completely confused about what I needed to do. I decided he needed a prompt, so I gave up my search for semi-clean jeans, seeing it was a lost cause anyway, and put on a pair of black cargos instead while asking, "What do you need me to do to get going?"

"Tank is in your parking lot," he said, causing me to hop over to the window with one leg in my pants and one still uncovered and peek out, verifying the presence of a shiny new black expedition right in front of the main entrance to my unit.

"I see him," I confirmed to keep Ranger talking.

"I need you to let him take you to New York, to St. Elizabeth's to pretend to be Manny's wife. Bobby will brief you on what needs to be done to sign him out AMA, and then we can get him transported via private helicopter to Trenton," Ranger explained.

I knew it would be much more complicated than he made it sound, but I figured if Tank, and apparently Bobby, were going to be there then I could handle it.

"I can do that," I promised, willing to do anything, no matter how hard, if Ranger needed me to.

"Bobby will be with you, pretending to be your bodyguard, but Tank will have to drop you off and leave because he's too distinguishable to risk being seen in the hospital," Ranger began explaining my cover. "Tank will brief you on the full extent of your cover on the drive down. I have some suspicions about who was targeting Manny, but I can't confirm them right now, which means he's still in real danger. That's why we have to get him out of there. The feds want him to stay put so that they can keep an eye on him, but with the threat still out there, it's too big of a gamble that the person who planted the bomb could get to Manny and finish the job. I'm on assignment with the government, and if my cover is blown, not only would it put my life in danger, too, but RangeMan could be in serious trouble for disclosing classified information. Legally, I'm not allowed to help Manny, so we have to do everything we can to keep Manny's discharge from the hospital from being traced back to RangeMan."

What he was saying was that, if this blew up on me, he couldn't swoop in and save the day. I knew I needed to do this. Ranger wouldn't let the possibility of him getting into trouble stop him from helping me when I needed it, but I couldn't deny needing to take a deep breath to process the fact that the fraud of pretending to be married to have legal rights at a hospital was actually the more minor of the crimes I would be committing by doing this.

"Steph, if you do this, you'll be dragged into something that is extremely dangerous. In addition to the difficulty with the government, we're talking drug wars and men who don't care who they have to kill in order to get their way. The second you walk in that hospital and say you are married to Manny, you'll have a bulls-eye on your head. And the fact that I can't just pull you back into RangeMan to keep you safe means that danger will stay with you until this whole assignment is over."

"If there was any other way to help Manny and keep you covered so that you can finish this mission, would you do it?" I pushed, trying to help him let go of the guilt that he was using me to do something potentially life threatening.

"In a heartbeat. Babe, I'm sorry to put you in this position," he said, much softer than usual.

"Besides what it will do to keep Manny living, will it help you?" I wondered, already knowing I was going to do it, but knowing this would serve as an extra motivation along the way, too.

"Yes," he confirmed what I already suspected. "Manny and I were on this assignment pretending to be cousins in the same family organization that was going up against some major players to secure a new source to import drugs into this country for us to sell on the streets. We were finally getting to the inner level of the supplier's family when someone around the family recognized Manny. They rigged an explosion in Manny's car, and he was too close to it to get away. The family seems to think I owe them a debt of gratitude for them discovering a traiter in my family's organization. I'm playing it as though Manny would never betray me, and I'm pushing that it was an attempt on my life, as well, to rush through the rest of the deal and finish this. If they decide to go along with my demands, then I can help the DEA shut down the supplier, which will temporarily slow down the illegal drugs on the street, and then I can take out the group that nearly killed Manny." I didn't miss the way his voice hardened on that last sentence.

"You know I'm glad to help, and I'd be pissed if there was something I could do for you and you refused to even give me the option of saying yes or no. I'm going to do this, and you are going to concentrate on finishing this and getting back home safe," I told him, trying to sound more confident than I really was. I was beginning to get an idea of dangerous this could be for me once I publically announced that I was married to the man a drug lord had attempted to kill. I could become their next victim, or even worse, they could try to take me to get to either Manny or Ranger. That danger combined with my usual bad luck had recipe for disaster written all over it. And assuming none of that came back to bite me, there was still the little espionage business of being given classified information and trying to pull one over on the government. Was treason still considered a capital offense?

"How long do you think it will take you to wrap this up?" I asked, figuring a few more details wouldn't hurt.

"Two weeks, maybe – three, tops," he replied, making it sound as though it were an eternity. "You'll have to stay out of sight for that entire time. The guys are trying to come up with a place that wouldn't raise any suspicion for you to lay low, but it's going to require you going on lock down."

Ah, now we were getting to why he didn't want to ask for my help. Put my life on the line to save someone else, no problem, no hesitation. Stay locked inside like some kind of caged animal, major push back. I swallowed back my initial panic over the idea of being inside for three weeks and told him, "No worries. If I'm doing it to save Manny's life or help protect you, then I won't fight it." Hopefully, I hadn't just lied.

"Pack a bag with everything you'll need for a couple of weeks and head downstairs to Tank. He and Bobby will get you up to speed on the drive down," he said, apparently believing me when I said I was going to help.

We said our goodbyes, but before we hung up, he spoke up once more. "Stephanie?"

"Yeah, Ranger?" I replied, letting him know I was still there.

He paused for a while, as though he wasn't sure how to verbalize what he wanted to, and finally cleared his throat to say, "Be careful," before hanging up. Those words felt like they were laced with so much more meaning, so I didn't dwell on the fact that he cut off the call before I could respond.

I figured if he couldn't put protection on Manny that time was of the essence, so I grabbed a duffle and randomly threw clothes in the bag, hoping I had a week's worth of acceptable outfits. Then I pulled everything I might need from my bathroom and tossed it loosely on top instead of taking the time to pack it in a toiletry bag. I went through the kitchen and grabbed the fresh box of Tasty Cakes that hadn't been opened, figuring he'd said to pack everything I needed, and this was definitely a need.

I glanced at the empty counter where Rex's cage used to sit and brushed off the fresh wave of sadness at the fact that I didn't need to get a pet sitter since Rex had passed away last week. I hadn't told anybody, because the morning I discovered he had passed away, it hit me so hard, I'd stayed in crying all day, and then I realized the way I'd reacted was so over the top that I didn't want to explain to anybody that I was this torn up over a hamster. It sounded silly when I said it out loud, but that little guy had been my only listening ear for all my problems long enough that losing him was like losing a lifelong friend.

Not wanting to get upset again, I turned to the fridge and pulled out a can of Coke, the only thing safely consumable in there at the moment. I needed caffeine, plus this would count as cleaning out my refrigerator before leaving on a trip, which is something my mom had taught me to do. I guessed all those lectures had paid off after all.

I gave the apartment one more glance and then grabbed my purse to head downstairs. I heard the engine start on the Expedition as soon as I hit the pavement from my building. Bobby jumped out, always the gentleman, and opened the back door for me.

As soon as my rear end hit the leather, Tank put it in drive and took off.

"Sorry I took so long." I felt the need to talk because the mood in the truck was so tense, I couldn't stand it. I personally thought I had been super speedy for what was asked of me, but neither of them reacted to my comment.

Tank picked up an envelope and lifted it over his shoulder for me to take it. "That's everything you can know about the mission," he began explaining. "You can't take it with you, so you need to read it now and commit it to memory," he told me bluntly, obviously slipping into that second-in-command mode.

"Got it," I replied, turning on the overhead light so I could see what he'd given me. When I opened the manila envelope, I was shocked to see a passport, driver's license, and credit cards, all for Stephanie Ramos. My picture was on them all, but I certainly didn't recall these being created. I put them in my purse, figuring I could ask about that little piece of forgery behind my back later.

"You'll need to remove anything from your bag that identifies you as Stephanie Plum and give it to me," Bobby said from the front seat. "I'll lock it up for you at RangeMan, and we can sort it out when you're finished."

I went through my wallet, carefully pulling out everything that had Plum on it, happy to see that my Tasty Pastry preferred customer card only had my first name scribbled on it, so I could keep it with me for a reminder of better days. I put all my real stuff in the envelope and replaced my real life with the fake one Tank had given me.

Having that task completed, I pulled out a single page document explaining that Manny and I had married on my birthday six months ago and I was a fashion designer who did some freelance work for private clients. This gave me the excuse to travel a great deal and was the explanation for why no one had met me before now. Manny was the second-in-command to Ranger of a family business that was like a Latino mob family, specializing in drug running in the Northeast.

I read a little more about the people they were investigating, but there was only enough information to irritate me and not enough to answer any of my questions. The pictures were helpful, though, because I could see in their scowly faces, these weren't people who would tolerate being double-crossed.

When I set the paper down, Tank spoke once more. "We need to talk about where you and Manny will go after we get him out."

"I figured there was a safe house RangeMan monitored that you had ready," I blurted out, not realizing the details hadn't been settled.

Bobby turned around in his seat to see me better. "As a last resort, we could try it, but there's too great a chance that if you two were discovered, they could link the property to RangeMan, which would allow the people Ranger is still working with to know who he really is or the government to know Ranger arranged for Manny's extraction. We need to come up with a place that no one would ever think to look, and even if they did, they'd never be able to tie to the company."

"Why can't you just send us someplace far away?" I wondered, already picturing myself on some tropical beach with the wind blowing my hair.

"We need you close enough that if something happens, we can cover you for protection," Tank said, shooting down my island dreams.

"We could go to Miami or Atlanta," I pushed, figuring any RangeMan could keep us safe, but we would be far enough away from our real lives that we'd be safe.

Bobby shook his head no. "I need you close enough for me to stay on top of Manny's condition. Plus, the men Ranger thinks tried to take him out have associates along the eastern seaboard. You are safer around here than anywhere else."

Silence descended for a while as I mulled over what he was saying, and then I had a strange thought. "Did you guys change anything about my past when you set up my new identity?"

Bobby looked at Tank and waited for the big guy to say, "We changed your maiden name to Mazur."

So they'd tied me to my grandmother, but not to my parents. Hearing her name gave me an idea. "I know of a place, but it might be in kind of bad shape."

"I'm listening," Tank said, grating on my nerves slightly with his curt demeanor. He'd never been what I'd call a big talker, but this straight to the point routine was strange coming from a guy that made kissing noises at kittens.

"Grandma Mazur's parents owned a house outside of Trenton. When they died, I was ten, and Grandma Mazur had the house boarded up because she and my grandfather already had a place to live and my Mom and Dad were settled in the 'Burg. She refused to sell the house because she said that one day, it would come in useful. I know Mom and Grandma Mazur go there a couple of times a year to be sure it's still standing and they tidy up a bit. The last they checked on it was right after Christmas, so it should be empty, but it's probably pretty dusty and musty from being closed up for so long," I explained, wondering if it was a bad suggestion.

"What's the address?" Tank asked, not giving me anything to go off of to let me know if I've been helpful or not.

I gave him the logistics and then added, "I'm not sure about power and water, though. I mean, if they clean it, I'm assuming it has both, but I don't remember either of them mentioning paying utility bills on the old place."

Bobby turned around with a half smile on his face when Tank picked up his cell phone and started talking in Spanish to someone on the other end. "That's a great suggestion. If the utilities are off, Hector can patch in and route them to you. What about furniture and stuff like that?"

"As far as I know, they left the house exactly the way it was, so it might be really outdated, but it was equipped for everything a couple of people in their late eighties needed in 1985," I told him, hoping my information was still up to date.

"What about neighbors?" he asked, probably curious if anyone would call the cops if the lights came on suddenly.

"No, it's on a parcel of land at least five acres," I replied, remembering having so much fun running in the woods around the house when I was little.

"Why didn't they sell it, or at least sell some of the land?" Bobby wondered.

"I don't know completely," I replied. "I just know Grandma Mazur said that her parents wanted it to stay in the family and she couldn't live there because she said it reminded her too much of her parents. My folks already had a home, and my mom didn't like living without neighbors. Grandma Mazur hinted when I married Dickie that if she'd thought I loved him, she would have given us the house as a wedding present, but in her opinion, it was obvious that he wasn't the one to capture my heart, and she said the only people that could be happy in that house were people who were completely devoted to each other."

"What, like it has some kind of spell on it?" Bobby asked, not making fun of me, but looking really curious.

I shrugged. "I don't know. They immigrated here from Hungary when they were seventeen, and Grandma Mazur said every couple that spent time in their presence came away more devoted to each other than before they met them. She said if there was even a spark of something between them, it would explode into something real just from being around them, and she didn't think it was a good idea for me to be in that house unless it was with the right man, because she wouldn't want me to be tied to someone I couldn't stand for the rest of my life."

In truth, my Grandpa Mazur used to call them gypsies and said they had the ability to do all kinds of strange Hungarian mo-jo, but to a ten-year-old, that kind of threat about a woman who always seemed to be taking fresh baked food out of her oven didn't really mean much.

Tank hung up and said, "Hector is looking it up and will take care of the utilities, I've got Ram sending out a clean up team just to give the place a once over to be sure it's clean enough for Manny's needs and structurally sound. If he gives it the green light, Ella will do some shopping and stock it up for food and bathroom stuff, and we'll have a television and laptop with cable access installed before you get there as well. Vince is going to rig up a security system that isn't too visible so we can keep you monitored and on the grid. But based on Hector's initial location search, the spot seems perfect – remote enough to stay hidden, but close enough to us that we can cover you effectively."

Then he handed me a brand new smart phone and said, "You should probably call your grandmother to let her know you're going to be there, but come up with something to keep her from dropping by."

"You say as though it's possible to control my grandmother," I replied dryly. Honestly, most of the guys hid behind me when she was close by. Why did they think I would have some kind of ability to commandl her?

Still, there was wisdom in warning her we would be there, so I dutifully typed in the number of Grandma's sparkling new neon pink Razor and waited for her to answer.

"Talk to me."

"Hey, Grandma, it's Steph," I began, hoping she could hear me over the noise in the background.

"Hey, baby granddaughter," she replied, before saying, "Herman, I've got to take this call, I'll be right back to pick up where we left off."

I so didn't want to know what that meant and hoped I could distract her before she attempted to tell me anyway.

"Sorry about that. I just met Herman, and since he's still got his own teeth and a driver's license, all the women are crazy about him, so I've had to act a little faster than I usually would, but you only live once, so I figured what the hell."

She would keep talking if I didn't interrupt, so I jumped in. "Hey, Grandma, I have a strange favor to ask of you."

"Anything. I've got my gun in my pocketbook, and I could get Herman to take me just about anywhere you need me to meet you," she offered.

"It's nothing like that," I quickly told her before she actually took her gun out and hurt somebody. "It's about Grandma Sabo's house." Sabo was Grandma Mazur's maiden name.

Every hint of joking fell out of her voice, and she sounded completely serious when she said, "What's going on?"

"I need a place to be with one of the guys from RangeMan. He's hurt, and I need to take care of him," I told her, figuring the truth, or a version of it, was always a good place to start.

"Why not go to the building that Ranger owns and do it there?" she asked. She might be over the top, but my grandmother was still a smart woman.

"We can't go there, and I can't tell you why." I knew the details were classified, and since Grandma had never been know for keeping a secret, I couldn't even give her a hint.

There was silence long enough that I had to pull the phone away from my ear to be sure it hadn't dropped the call. "Grandma?" I prompted.

"Do you like this guy you're going to be playing nurse with?" she asked.

"Yes," I said with complete certainty. I didn't need to tell her that I really didn't know him that well, but since he was from RangeMan, by default I liked him, because I knew he was a good guy.

"Of course you can use the house. They would love the idea of watching over you when you needed it, anyway," she conceded before I could begin to figure out how I was going to explain to the guys that she said no. "Once you settle in, let me know if you notice anything out of the ordinary."

"What do you mean, out of the ordinary?" I wondered, feeling a little uncertain.

"It might be nothing, so don't you worry," she said, her voice beginning to take on its lighter tone instead of the more somber one it had carried. "But call me if you need to talk about anything while you're there. I'll keep it a secret from your mother until you're ready to tell her about you and this fella."

"There's nothing to tell about me and any fella," I replied, hoping she wasn't thinking this was me looking for a place to hide out and have sex with one of the Merry Men.

"Of course there isn't," she replied. Then she added the word, "…yet," taking away my comfort and hanging up before I could argue the point.

I handed the phone back up to the front and sat back hard against my seat. I was traveling to New York City to pretend to be married to a man who was seriously injured and in grave danger. Then I was going to carry him back to a house built by my gypsy great-grandparents, where my crazy grandmother seemed to think strange things were going to happen. Something told me when all this was over, I was going to miss Rex twice as much. He might not have seemed like much, but I could really use a good listening ear right now to keep everything straight.


	2. Show Time

_JE gets the honor of having created the characters below._

_Jenny (JenRar) thank you so much for patiently straightening out each poor word choice, incorrect punctuation mark, and cloudy plot element. _

**Chapter 2 – Show Time**

As we moved through the night on our way to New York, Tank continued to brief me about my cover giving me dos and don'ts of how to act in the hospital. Apparently, Manny's persona was that he was in the elite leadership of a Latin American family, much like the mob in an Italian family. As such, he was rich and powerful, which meant I needed to give the appearance of being comfortable in that world. And since loyalty is a big deal in family organizations, despite the fact no one would have heard of me before, I needed to appear completely devoted to my new husband.

I sputtered in response to that comment. "Trust me, guys... I may not be the sharpest tack, but I understand how to be a faithful wife."

"So when you first see him laying in the bed, looking like he's damn lucky to be alive, how are you going to react?" Tank asked, not trying to insult me, but trying to help me understand the subtle behaviors I needed to master with little to no practice.

"I'll probably cry, honestly, I hate seeing you guys so beat up," I confessed, figuring the truth was a good way to go.

"Crying is okay," Bobby offered a little softer, "but you can't turn to me for comfort, and I can't offer it on any level."

"What?" I didn't understand why he couldn't even put a hand on my shoulder.

"I'm the paid staff there to watch your back," he told me, helping me to see how much more complicated this was about to become. "You have to call me Robert, never Bobby, and the less you look at me the better."

"But what if I have a question?" I blurted out, feeling as though my safety net of not screwing this up was being ripped out from under me like a magician would yank a table cloth. Only, if I were the magician, everything on the table would go tumbling off in a broken heap, too, which made the analogy all the more fitting.

"You won't have any questions," Bobby replied as though I walked into hospitals all the time and got the guys released against their doctor's wishes while pretending to be happily married to the banged up guy in question.

Before I could attempt to find the right words to tell Bobby how wrong he was, he jumped back in to explain, "You won't need to ask me any questions because I am there to watch your back, which by the way, is the complete truth. You hold his legal power of attorney, and you have his international medical proxy authority and you're his wife and next of kin. Those things give you the legal right to do what you're doing. On top of that, you will be demanding his complete medical record to give to his private treating physician once you get him home. You don't need to understand everything in reality or in the role you're about to play. You just need to act like you are in complete control and you're used to having people jump when you say so."

"What if they don't jump?" I worried, not sure I could pull off the role of rich bitch as effectively as they thought I could.

"They will," Tank replied forcefully. "If not, call me, and I'll give you a little extra muscle."

"What will you do?" I asked, really curious how Tank's muscles could help me if he couldn't be seen.

"You leave that to me," he promised without telling me anything helpful. "But trust me, I don't expect the staff to get in your way."

"Okay," I conceded, not entirely sure I understood, but trusting them just the same. "So once I get him signed out, then what happens?" I asked.

"A helicopter on the roof will take the three of us to Trenton, and we'll get you guys to the house where you'll be laying low until this whole thing is over," Bobby replied.

"I get to ride in a helicopter?" I questioned, having never done it before, and briefly panicking over the idea that I might pass out from the stress if it felt much different from flying in a plane.

"Yes," Tank said with a lighter tone than he'd used for most of the trip. "But you can't act like it's a big deal. You have to at least give the impression that you've done this on numerous occasions."

"Is it a RangeMan helicopter?" I wondered, not sure how deep the RangeMan pockets ran.

"No, the bird belongs to a friend that owes RangeMan big, but it's unmarked, so it's perfect for this. The pilot is from the Boston office, so he's solid for getting us there quickly and quietly. Once we take off, you can relax until we get to Trenton," Bobby offered, much to my relief.

I knew I could keep myself under control while we were boarding, but once the pilot lifted us into the air, all bets were off about my acting abilities.

We'd covered just about all the logistics, so the only question left was the most important one of all. "How badly is he hurt?" I figured it couldn't be too bad if they were moving him, but my gut told me that was a dangerous assumption.

The seconds ticked uncomfortably by until Bobby cleared his throat, obviously realizing this question wasn't going to answer itself. "He was near a car when it was detonated with a an IED."

"What does that mean?" I interrupted.

"It's an Improvised Explosive Device. In addition to the force of the explosion and the fire itself, they'd packed the charge with debris like nails and small metal fragments to act as high-powered shrapnel. So Manny's got a ton of scrapes and cuts, giving him twenty-four sets of stitches in various parts of his body. The blast itself gave him a concussion, a fractured rib, a clean break in his lower arm, and severe bruising along the entire left side of his body." Then Bobby paused, which warned me that the worst injury hadn't been detailed yet.

"But his left leg is torn up. He has some bad burns on the skin, and some debris pinned his knee at a totally unnatural angle so that it aggravated an old injury and tore his ACL – one of the stabilizing ligaments in the knee – and shattered his kneecap. Because of his other injuries, he's going to lose mobility in that joint while it heals, which will require major therapy to get even close to working order. I don't know that he'll ever have the full use of that leg again. Initially, all the injuries together will make pain management the top priority, followed closely by infection prevention."

Before I could remind them that I had no medical background, Tank stopped driving and announced, "We're here; it's time to get your game face on."

I looked down and said, "Guys, I'm wearing a RangeMan uniform."

"See the duffle bag at your feet?" Bobby asked, causing me to look down for the first time since I got in the truck.

Assuming it was a hint, I pulled the bag up and opened it to find some clothes that I had no doubt would fit me perfectly. "What am I supposed to do with these?" I asked, looking around to make the point that there wasn't a bathroom or dressing area as standard equipment in a RangeMan SUV. I knew there was no point in even asking why they had this outfit in the truck.

"Change," Tank said, once again in his commander voice. "We won't look."

I was going to argue the point, but I could tell this was one of those cases I would lose. Even if I won, it would be a shallow victory, because it would waste all kinds of time, and I had a feeling the sooner we got Manny out of that hospital, the safer he and Ranger both would be. So I swallowed my pride and pulled my shirt off, replacing it with the silk blouse in the bag. It was fitted and didn't require tucking in since the hem was uneven at the bottom and meant to be shown off. The pants were a wide leg wool blend that were unusually soft. I gladly tossed my RangeMan cargos and tried to slip them on without flashing the guys in the front seat or anybody walking by on the sidewalk. I guess the tinted windows were coming in handy tonight.

At the bottom of the bag was a pair of pointed toe stiletto boots that I knew were going to fit me like a glove. I slipped my feet in and zipped them up, pulling the pant legs down over the boot tops and smiling at how classy the outfit was. This wasn't something I would ever have picked out for myself, but for the role of a rich, private fashion designer, it was ideal.

"All right," I announced, to let them know they could stop focusing on their windows.

Tank turned around with a box in his hand. "Here."

I opened it and saw what appeared to be a diamond necklace and matching earrings. "Tell me these aren't real."

Tank raised an eyebrow at me in response. I guess that meant he would be lying if he said what I'd asked him to.

"I can't wear that," I complained. "Something will happen to it and it will be all my fault, and I can't be held responsible for ruining thousands of dollars worth of jewelry."

"Boss said you had to wear it," Tank replied, giving me a look that questioned whether he was going to have to put it on or if I could just grow up and do it myself. "There's a tracker in every piece."

"You know, I could slip trackers into my shoes. He doesn't have to go this extreme to hide them," I pointed out, reaching for the sparkly accessories.

"He did that, too," Tank replied, as though it should have been obvious.

Of course he had. I was being sent on a mission of sorts prepped out by Ranger. There wouldn't be a stone left unturned. "Wait, how did he have time to pull all this together?"

"He's had a go bag ready for you for years in case he ever needed to get you out undercover. When I got the call, he told me to pull that bag and then open his safe for the jewelry. I'm just following orders here," Tank said, making me wonder why Ranger had such expensive jewelry sitting in his safe for no apparent reason.

"New bag," Bobby announced, pulling me from my thoughts. He handed me a purse that was much smaller than I usually carried, but I assumed that made sense, since a rich woman traveling the world with a staff and a bodyguard wouldn't need a huge bag filled with old candy wrappers. I quickly switched out my old bag for the new one, taking out only the necessities. "There isn't room for my gun and my stun gun in here," I announced, surprised that he hadn't planned ahead for my weapons.

"Your gun loaded?" Tank asked, sounding surprised.

I blushed, realizing he'd gotten me with one question. "No."

"Then don't take it," he replied matter-of-factly. "It could be more dangerous to carry it without the ability to use it."

His big hand stretched out, so I gave him the .38 Ranger had helped me purchase years ago when we first met. For some reason, I was struggling more to hand over that useless piece of metal than I was to walk away from my trusty purse that I'd used a lot more often than the gun to take down skips.

Then Tank lifted his big hand to give me a small black box. I knew it would contain a ring, and based on how soft the jewelry store's velvet was on the outside, I had a feeling it was going to be extraordinary. When I lifted the lid, I had to blink to believe what I was seeing. Inside were two rings: a wide gold band containing inset stones that I assumed were diamonds and sapphires and an engagement ring with a large round diamond in the middle, surrounded by sapphire baguettes and small diamonds along the remaining band. Even in the dark truck, they sparkled. I'd never seen rings like these and wondered if they'd been specially made for this purpose. They walked the line of being obviously expensive, the purchase of someone with vast amounts of money, while also being breathtakingly lovely with no hints of being over-the-top or tacky. When I slipped them on and lifted my hand, I was shocked to think I'd never seen a wedding set as classy as these were.

"Are you ready?" Bobby asked.

I stopped focusing on the rings and nodded to let him know I was okay to get this show on the road.

"You'll probably see some of the guys we use for contract work here and there and a few guys from the other offices. Don't acknowledge anybody, and just stick to the plan like we discussed."

"Okay," I responded, hoping if I kept my words short, he wouldn't hear the nervousness that was creeping into my system.

"I'll guide you to his room, and then I'll alert the floor nurse in charge so she can get the release initiated. I'll ensure that all the personnel that need to speak with you do so in the room with Manny so that you can stand firm on not leaving his side, plus we can protect you both better if you're together."

Once again, I imitated a ventriloquist dummy and just nodded.

Bobby must have taken that as permission to continue. "And if anything gets totally confusing or overwhelming, use the cell phone Ranger put in your bag to call Tank. It's the only number hard coded in as a contact. Just state what's happening, and he'll advise you. You can tell whoever is listening that you are conferring with a family attorney or an advisor from the family, or anything else you think will work."

I put my hand on the door handle when he stopped talking, ready to jump into this nightmare, but Tank told me to wait. "Bobby is your bodyguard, and you need to act like you are totally used to being handled like this. Always wait for him to clear the area and open the door for you. You never open a door – even to go into the ladies room. You always wait for him to clear it first."

"Are you guys sure—" I started to say, wondering if they'd pinned their hopes on me and were about to be majorly disappointed.

Tank stopped me before I could get the rest of the sentence out. "Bossman said nobody else but you could pull this off. And he's never wrong, so yeah, we're sure."

There wasn't really anything else I could say to that, so I gestured to Bobby that I was ready to make my acting debut defrauding a medical establishment and potentially committing a crime against the U.S. government. He hopped out and did a quick scan around before putting a comm. unit in his ear and speaking. I didn't bother asking who he was communicating with; I just waited as patiently as I could for him to open my door and gesture to the hospital entrance. He put a hand on the small of my back and stepped ahead of me to open the door and hold it open for me to walk through.

"Elevators ahead. He's in room 510," Bobby informed me in a voice so quiet, I wouldn't have thought he was talking to me if I hadn't seen his eyes focused in my direction.

I forced my hands to stay by my side and allowed Bobby to hit the button to call the elevator and to set our floor. When the doors opened, I took a step before stopping when I remembered what Tank said. Bobby made a soft sound that seemed like he was agreeing with my action, so I tried to hide my smile. I was such a sucker for these guys, and knowing I'd done something they approved of made me happy.

I was able to get the grin off my face when I stepped out of the elevator and saw the sign for the ICU, which appeared to be where we were headed. I fell into step with Bobby, allowing him to open each door and move us closer to the room where I was going to need to pull off the role of distraught, but completely in charge wife.

"Wait," I called out when I saw we were in front of room 510.

Bobby turned to look at me with a worried expression.

"Just wait a minute," I repeated when a nurse walked by, glancing our way with only mild interest. I took a few deep breaths and then nodded. "Okay, now I'm ready."

Bobby nodded but said nothing else before knocking four times and then pushing the door open.

Caesar and a guy I'd seen before but didn't know at all were inside and nodded at me, lifted their chin at Bobby, and then silently walked out, I presumed to stand guard at the door.

Bobby pointed to the chair right next to Manny and said, "That's for you. Don't let anybody make you move. Any test they need to run can be done with you in that spot."

He left after telling me that he was going to get the nurse and begin the process of having Manny released and reminding me not to worry, that Caesar and Erik were at the door. At least the mystery of who the other guy was had been answered.

As soon as the door closed, I let my gaze fall to Manny. I was glad for the briefing I'd gotten on the way over. He looked like death warmed over, and exactly as I'd told Tank, I began to cry. At first, I fought the tears; then I realized there was no reason to, because I needed to look upset and I wasn't wearing mascara. It was packed in my bag, but in my rush at home, I'd never put it on. No wonder I felt so on display... I didn't have anything to hide behind.

I blamed the stillness in the room and the steady sounds of the heart monitor for making me so unaware of my surroundings that my mouth opened on its on. I reached up, wanting to touch him somewhere but not really sure what was uninjured enough to risk touching. Finally, I settled on his hair and ran my fingers through some of it on the side. Manny had shoulder-length hair that he usually kept pulled back in a low ponytail tied with a strip of leather a lot like Ranger's. At the moment, it was loose, and the dark hair was in need of a good brushing.

Lazily, I moved my fingers through the side closest to me and promised him, "Once we get you somewhere safe, I'll make sure to get your hair washed for you. It looks like they got all the major stuff out of it, but it's still dirty from the blast, and I'm sure you'll want that grimy feeling to be gone."

Once I started talking, it seemed to get easier, so I let myself ramble about nothing in particular. I told him how bad he looked, and then my other hand moved up to touch his hand closest to me. It had an IV going into it, but I just held it carefully and promised him I'd do whatever it took to get him out and back home safe.

"I may not be able to keep myself out of trouble, but I don't let down the people depending on me, so don't you worry. Besides, a car has already blown up, so I don't feel the need to do that part in order to have a complete adventure."

There was a series of four taps on the door, spaced just as Bobby had done it earlier, so I didn't bother acknowledging the door when it opened.

A nurse walked over and looked over each of the machines before standing across the bed from me and introducing herself. "Mrs. Ramos, I'm Carolyn Hines, the head nurse in the ICU for this shift. I understand you wish to have your husband discharged into your care."

While she spoke, I looked at her, but when she said husband, I let my eyes fall back to Manny and nodded that she was right. "I do."

"Mr. Ramos's injuries are extensive. He's only been out of surgery for eight hours, and because of the amount of pain medication he's on, he is in and out of consciousness. I think it might be better for him to wait at least another twenty-four hours before attempting to transport him." Her tone was professional and soft. It was obvious she was concerned about her patient.

I knew I was supposed to come off as completely in control, but I couldn't play the ruthless bitch – at least not to someone who was attempting to be civil to me. I shook my head no and spoke in a tone as close to hers as I could muster. "I understand your concerns, but my husband has always been very clear about what I was to do in this exact circumstance, and I cannot deviate from those instructions even for a single day. He's made it through the surgeries; I have all the arrangements made for his care, so I need to get him moved immediately."

"The surgeon will come by to check on him in another four hours," she tried a different angle. "How about we wait until he's had another exam before doing anything rash? If the surgeon is pleased with his status, he might be willing to release him."

"No." I dropped the hand that had been playing in Manny's hair, realizing that even if I didn't want to be ruthless, I was going to have to be assertive at a bare minimum. I looked her directly in the eye and said, "I will not wait for the surgeon. I understand I'm signing him out against medical advice and that you will need my signature to do that. Please get whatever forms are necessary. I've already made the arrangements for his immediate transport, and I'd like to be on the move as soon as possible."

She looked at me for a tense second, probably weighing her options of how else she might stall me, but in the end, she nodded and said, "I'll pull the paperwork together, and I'll call the doctor on rotation right now. I'm sure he'll want to speak to you first."

She was nearly to the door before I remembered what Bobby had said about Manny's records, so I called out to her again, "Ms. Hines, I will need a copy of my husband's full medical records as well. His personal physicians will need to know everything that has been done to him since he arrived at St. Elizabeth's."

"Of course, Mrs. Ramos," she agreed, obviously comfortable with my request. "I'll get them for you right away."

After the door closed, Bobby held up a finger, so I waited to see what he giving me a wait signal for. There were two thumps against the door, like each of the guys had hit it with their palms, and then Bobby dropped his finger and smiled at me before putting a finger over his lips to tell me to be quiet. I got the impression the room wasn't clean, so someone else could be listening in. Still, it made me feel good just to see him smile, giving me a sign that I was handling this well.

I turned to look at Manny again and saw him struggling to open his eyes, so I stood up to be in his field of vision. I knew when I'd been out of it in the hospital, I always woke up confused, and I didn't want him to start complaining about me being here in front of his doctor.

"Hey, Manny, it's Steph," I said, keeping his hand in mine.

He instantly looked confused and tried to focus, but his eyes didn't seem to want to cooperate. "Steph?"

"Yeah. The guys called me and told me my husband had been hurt, so of course I came right away to take you home safely," I blurted out, trying to both tell him why I was here and keep it to the script in case someone _was_ listening in.

That seemed to be what he needed to hear, because his eyes shot open.

I felt the need to step back, but forced myself to stay close so he would see I was real.

"You're real?" he asked with a slight grimace.

I knew the cloudy head feeling he had to be experiencing from the drugs and the injuries, so I just smiled at him and said, "I'm just here to keep you safe."

Then he gave me the sweetest smile as his eyes fluttered from the strain of trying to stay awake. "Ah, I'm dreaming. You're an angel."

His eyes closed then, and I wasn't sure he could hear me, but I still wanted to respond, so I said, "You know me well enough to know I'm no angel. You're going to need a whole lot of care, and until you heal a good bit, it's not going to involve me in a nurse's uniform."

A male voice I didn't recognize said, "At least you realize there are restrictions on what Mr. Ramos can handle. I'm hoping that means you're going to be reasonable about signing him out now and let him stay until he is a little further along in his recovery."

I stood up straight, not liking the doctor's tone one bit. "Actually, it means the sooner he's out of here and settled with his regular doctors, the better it will be for everyone involved."

"Mrs. Ramos, you aren't thinking clearly…" he began, using that condescending voice that men used to shut up their dimwitted wives. It hooked that place in me that resented being told what to do, and I couldn't stop myself from responding.

"Actually, doctor, I think it is your skills of thought that aren't firing correctly. I've given you all the required paperwork you need to process his release. You have no legal reason to hold him. I'll accept responsibility for his care, but my husband is leaving this hospital – now." By the end, my voice was getting a little louder.

I felt Manny squeezing my hand, and I looked down to see if he was all right. I knew what it was like to have a concussion from an explosion, and I figured my loud voice probably wasn't helping the headache he had to be sporting. I reached over with my free hand and touched his hair again. "Sorry if I'm making your head worse."

He shook his head much slower this time, probably remembering how it felt the last time he'd tried it. "You're okay," he assured me. "The doc's a dick. I don't want to be here."

I smiled at his word choice and then looked over to the physician, who was staring at us like we were an exhibit at an oddity museum. "You heard my husband," I stated to get the doctor out of his stupor. "Get him out of here."

"For the record, you are making a huge mistake," the doc replied tersely.

"Noted. Now do whatever you need to so that when I get word our transportation is here, we can leave smoothly," I instructed, turning my back to dismiss the doctor and face Manny once more.

The door closed, and after a brief pause, the two muted thumps from the guys gave us an all clear.

I looked back down at Manny, and he had obviously passed out again from the effort involved in trying to participate in the conversation.

I couldn't stop myself from squeezing his hand again and replying, "You sleep and let me finish busting you out of here."

I'd always loved to watch the guys when they were asleep. Their faces lost the hard fighter expressions they so often carried, and as the softness set in, I could easily picture them as young boys, ready for fun mischief and taking on the world. With Manny like this, I had an overwhelming desire to protect him.

I'd agreed to this because Ranger had asked. But seeing Manny so vulnerable, I knew that from here on out, I'd do whatever it took to keep him safe just to protect this broken man in front of me.


	3. Settling In

_The credit for the characters below belongs to JE._

_Jenny (JenRar) thank you for your willingness to work on another story with me as the beta._

**Chapter 3 – Settling In**

I'd felt so noble when the rude doctor was there and Manny seemed to want me to get him out. But after having no less than six different people come in and basically tell me I was an idiot, I was ready to get the hell out of this hospital or yank Manny's IV so I could have access to his drugs, too.

Bobby, who had been standing stoically at the door, straightened and pushed against the comm. unit in his ear, like he was trying to be sure he didn't miss anything. Before I could ask what was happening, he looked at me and said, "Chopper is here. I'll go alert the nurses."

He turned and walked away, leaving me alone with Manny once more. I took the moment of silence to consider what a strange life this would be if it was real. To be constantly surrounded by people but not really having any company made me lonely – something I rarely felt when I was alone. The familiar knocking on the door brought me out of that odd thought, so I turned to see who was going to yell at me next.

Bobby walked in with a doctor I hadn't met yet and the nurse who had first attempted to talk me out of moving Manny. She came right over, checked all his levels, and then began removing some of the gear from him. The IV, she removed from the pole, and then she pulled the tubing out of the computerized box that seemed to be releasing it at a steady rate. When the beeping from the monitors stopped, I couldn't help but wonder if this was really the right thing to do. Why was it so dangerous for Manny that he had to be moved, when he obviously should still be in a hospital?

The doctor signed a few pieces of paper on a clipboard in front of him and then shoved the forms in front of me. "If you are going to insist on endangering your husband's life, then you'll have to sign here, taking full responsibility."

I decided I didn't feel like fighting anymore, so I signed my name, having to retrace the first letter of my last name to turn it from a P for Plum into an R for Ramos instead. This fake getting married business was hard to get used to.

When I handed the clipboard back, the doctor said, "I hope his life insurance is paid up," and then he spun around in his scrubs-covered shoes and left.

I gave him a 'Burg-worthy glare while he made his less than graceful exit and then turned my attention back to the work being done on Manny.

The nurse injected something in his IV line and made a note in the file she'd brought in with her. When she was finished loosening him from all the wires and gadgets, she said, "We'll bring him up to the roof to meet you at the heli-pad."

I knew she was trying to be helpful, but there was no way I was going to leave anyone at this hospital alone with Manny when the guys had made it so clear he was in more danger being here than he would be by yanking him away from hospital so abruptly.

"Thank you for all you're doing, but I'm not leaving his side. Do whatever you have to do to move him, and I'll be right here," I told her as calmly as I could while still making it clear I wasn't going to budge.

"I thought you'd say that," she replied with a partial smile. I knew she disagreed with me moving him now, but I was beginning to think that a piece of her admired my conviction.

A few big guys came in with a gurney and followed the directions given by the nurse.

She then picked up a folder and explained it was his records for his time at St. Elizabeth's. "How long will it be until he will have medical attention again?" she asked, looking back at the door, as though what she was doing was not sanctioned.

I had no idea, but I assumed a helicopter would be faster than a car, so I guessed, "Maybe an hour, perhaps a little longer."

She looked in his folder and then nodded. "His pain meds have been topped off, so he should stay out of it for a couple of hours at least. Just moving him from his bed to the cot would be jolting enough. When you have to move him back to his bed, I didn't want him to wake up in extreme pain." At the last sentence, she walked to stand directly in front of me with her back to the orderlies behind her.

Bobby had seen her movement and had followed her, obviously taking his duty as my bodyguard seriously.

I followed her eyes and saw that she was looking at something in her hand. She extended her palm to me so that I could take the capped off syringe full of some clear liquid. "Put it directly into the port on his IV, and it will knock him out within seconds. You obviously care for him, and this trip will be excruciating if he wakes up. I know I wouldn't be able to watch my husband suffer like that."

I took the needle, unsure if it was the right thing to do but following that voice in my head that told me it was okay. "What is it?" I asked, figuring I could question Bobby later.

She opened the medical record and pointed to a script from a doctor. "It was a standing order to be given every two to four hours as needed for pain management over the first two days after surgery."

"Thank you," I told her, hoping my eyes were really as expressive as everyone said they were. I wanted her to understand how much I appreciated not only this gesture, but the fact that she'd respected my wishes and helped to prep Manny for travel.

Then I glanced to Bobby behind her and said, "All right, Robert, let's go." It felt so strange to call him by that name that I began to smile. This was part of why I didn't play poker. I had a great game face when I could manage it, but sometimes my reactions got away from me before I could do anything about it.

The ride to the roof was completely silent, and I found myself wishing the medical monitors were still beeping in the background just to offer a little noise to keep the tension from mounting.

When the doors opened on the roof, there was a helicopter waiting with a guy in all black standing at a parade rest waiting for us. I figured that was our pilot and watched as he lowered his head in Bobby's direction as a subtle greeting and then stepped back to reveal a flat surface inside the aircraft that Manny's gurney would be fitted on top of and strapped to in order to keep him secure.

Once all the straps were fastened, Bobby looked at me and said, "You should get in, Mrs. Ramos."

I took his advice and followed the pilot to the other side to get in, noticing that Bobby went back over every single strap to verify for himself that they were secure. After he was satisfied, he opened the passenger side door to the cockpit and hopped in beside our pilot. I was given a pair of earphones like what we'd wear at the shooting range. Well, to be honest, I didn't wear them, because I didn't go to the range, but I had watched the guys act like little boys playing with toys when I was on monitor duty, and I knew they wore these big things to protect their hearing.

Once the doors were closed, the pilot started flipping switches at an alarming rate, and I could feel the engine coming to life. It didn't take long before we were in the air. After we'd cleared what I considered to be New York City, Bobby turned in his seat to see me and gave me a thumbs up. I smiled weakly, feeling the adrenaline of being under the constant scrutiny at the hospital quickly leaving me.

Riding in the helicopter was a strange sensation. I could definitely feel we were flying, but since I was able to see the pilot or because I was too tired to care, I wasn't as on edge as I usually was in airplanes. I looked at Manny, and he seemed to be completely out of it, so I turned my attention to Bobby, who was madly typing on his smartphone before pulling the little microphone down on his earphones and speaking. Even knowing that he was about to talk, I was still surprised enough to hear his voice in my ears that I jumped slightly.

"We've got clearance to land directly at the house. I'm putting the coordinates in your navigator," he announced.

I assumed that meant we were going straight to my great-grandparents' house. I hadn't been there in twenty years, but I remembered the lawn being more than big enough to accommodate this aircraft, so it seemed to make sense. I had a hundred different questions about what to expect, but I didn't want to start spouting off and risk distracting our pilot. Things were going well, but I didn't see enough cause for possibly ruining the smooth flight we were having just to get a few more details.

I was startled when it seemed that we were getting closer to the ground and then looked out the window to see we were here. Even from the air, I recognized the house that I'd visited often as a little girl. Once we touched down and I could hear the blades slowing down, my door was opened. Cal reached in, unbuckled the complicated harness I was wearing, and then pulled me into his arms in a hug. I'd known Cal for three years now, and this was the first time he'd ever pulled me to him for a hug. He did lots of shoulder squeezes and would occasionally tug on my hair when he walked by, but he definitely wasn't a real touchy-feely kind of guy. The contact caught me completely off guard, but I wasn't about to complain about a totally stacked guy pulling me against his gorgeous body and holding me to him. Cal pulled back sooner than I thought was really necessary and put a hand on my back, indicating that I needed to crouch down to exit the spot where we were standing.

We ran to the front door of the house, where Hector was standing. He, too, hugged me when I walked by, which was even more alarming than when Cal did it. If there was one person at Haywood that I figured didn't care about me one way or the other, it would be the Spanish-speaking man now rubbing my back and saying something I absolutely didn't understand. Still, Hector was a good looking guy in that dangerous, yet simultaneously appealing kind of way, so I wasn't going to complain about another hug. Just as suddenly as he'd touched me, he pulled back, kissed my forehead, placed his hand over his heart, and then walked away, leaving me looking at Cal, who shrugged as though he didn't know what Hector had said, either, but it didn't seem as unusual to Cal as it obviously was to me.

Not sure what to expect, I stepped into the house when Cal indicated I should and moved into the living room, where the small black-and-white television had been replaced with a thirty-six-inch, widescreen, up-to-date version. It was on scale for the room but still startling to see in front of the wild, floral-print couch and rust-colored easy chair.

I took a deep breath and only caught a trace of the musty smell most closed up houses seemed to hold. The place looked immaculate, so either my mom and grandmother were fantastic at keeping it spotless, or the team RangeMan had sent over had been particularly effective in a short amount of time.

I moved through the little living room into the dining room and kitchen area, where I stopped and sat on a bar stool, suddenly needing a rest. It was a surreal feeling to be in a place I associated only with my childhood, yet to have the guys I worked with walking around as though they belonged here, too. I saw plenty of food stacked on the countertops, which I took as evidence that Ella had already been by. There was a laptop charging at the end of the bar, so I knew Hector had been busy as well.

"You okay?" Cal asked, pulling me from the black hole of my thoughts and turning my focus from the avocado green refrigerator that was so popular in the sixties.

I nodded yes, not sure if that was accurate or not but feeling like I was too tired to do any better. Suddenly, the stress of the situation, the fact that my sleep had been interrupted and reduced to virtually nothing, and the strange sensation of being in a place filled with de ja vu memories was overwhelming me.

Vince walked by holding his tool bag and went out of his way to come over to me and pull me against his chest in a one-armed hug. After kissing the top of my head, he walked off without a word, leaving me more confused than ever.

"All right," I blurted out to Cal. "What's with all the hugging?"

"What, you have a hands off policy now that you're married?" he asked with a grin big enough to let me know he was just joking.

I kept staring at him instead of dignifying his attempt at a joke with a comment and waited for him to break.

"Seriously, Steph, did you think we'd hear about you dropping everything for a few weeks to put yourself directly in the line of fire for one of us and we'd keep treating you like this was no big deal?"

I considered the question and realized the answer was, "Yeah, that's exactly what I expected."

That wiped the smile completely off his face. "Then we need to spend a little more time with you, if you don't know us any better than that. This is huge, the kind of sacrifice we'd all hesitate before making, but from what Tank said, you immediately responded and ran straight into danger just because we needed you to watch over one of us. That's big, Steph, and we don't exactly know how to let you know what it means to us, so that's why you're getting a little more attention but not much talking to go with it."

"I think Hallmark could help you guys," I teased, remembering my dad once telling my mother that he didn't have to say sappy stuff because that's why they made greeting cards.

My comment helped to lighten the mood, so I added, "Besides, I'm not doing something you guys wouldn't have done for me. I think at some point, I've put every one of you in danger to various degrees, so I'm returning the favor because this was something I was capable of doing."

"Don't sell yourself short here," he said as the noise level from the sliding back doors alerted me to the fact that they were bringing Manny in from back there. It was a wider entrance than the door I'd used, so it made sense. Plus, it would give them direct access to the den, which was the biggest room in the house.

I stood up to move toward the noise, arriving in the den just in time to see them settling him off the mobile gurney and into the hospital bed that was already set up and waiting. Bobby had most of the same equipment Manny had been hooked up to at St. Elizabeth's, so I began to relax that it seemed my pretend husband was going to be in good hands with all the guys around to watch over him and the technology of a mini-hospital available, as well.

"All right Steph," Bobby said, motioning for me to come over to him. "Let me show how all this works."

By nature, I was a curious person, so I followed his direction, very interested in all the machines filling up what I remembered to be a huge room at one time. I guess the combination of the outdated furniture plus the small medical suite and six large, well-armed men did take up most of the room, making it feel smaller than it really was.

I watched Bobby feed the IV tubing into the machine to monitor the flow and then listened as he explained the alarm. He spoke quickly and with obvious expertise as he talked about levels and things to look for. When he wound down, he said, "But you don't need to worry about remembering all of that because I've written it down for you to use when you do your hourly checks."

And that was when the warning system in my head began screeching in earnest. "What do you mean, when I do my hourly checks? Where are you going to be?"

I never knew how fascinating shag carpeting could be to a group of former military men. But it must have contained the secret to winning any battle, because it held every set of eyes like some invisible laser beam was forcing them not to look away.

"Bobby?" I tried softening my voice. Maybe the guys were afraid of the hysterical female with all the shiny diamonds on her. "Where are you going to be?"

"I'm going to be at Haywood, keeping up appearances so that RangeMan is in no way involved in this. I can come by anytime you think it's necessary, but otherwise, I'll swing by about dinnertime every day until this is over. You can call me at any hour with questions, and I'm going to show you how to give him his meds. We can go over any changes when I come by everyday." His speech was getting faster the longer he rambled, so I figured I needed to help him stop talking.

I help up my hand. "You know I'm not a nurse, right?"

"True, but I know you can do this," Bobby countered, holding my gaze with his to reinforce his confidence.

I let out a long breath and said, "All right. Show me again what I need to do."

He smiled and started over from the beginning, patiently reviewing everything I needed to do or look out for. The guys began to slowly disburse while I was distracted, and by the time Bobby was finished, it was just he and Tank with me and Manny.

Tank cleared his throat to get my attention. "This house is the perfect place for you two to hide out, but you know you have to stay completely hidden, right?"

"Yeah, no sunbathing in the front yard. I got it," I told him, failing to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

"It's more than that," he said, ignoring my tone to address my intent instead. "We left the boards up on the windows to give the impression that no one was here and we'll be blocking the back door again when we leave. You can't go outside at all. Hell, I'd prefer you keep the use of the lights to a minimum from sun down until midnight, when most people aren't likely to be looking at a deserted house for potential activity. Technically, I should be telling you that yelling isn't going to be allowed, too, but given Manny's current state, I don't think that will be a problem."

This wasn't house arrest... This was a complete imprisonment! "What _can_ I do?"

"Cable is hooked up, the laptop is fully equipped, and Hector got you a high-speed connection up and running. And the hall closet has quite the collection of jigsaw puzzles to put together," Tank replied without breaking a smile.

I foolishly attempted to stare him down, but I'd grossly underestimated Tank's skills, so I had to blink and look away first. "All right, you win. Tell me about my new security system."

Mention games, and Tank is all business. Mention high tech security, and the big guy cracks a smile.

He motioned me over and described the motion detectors outside and showed me the keypads at the front and back doors. He gave me a four digit code to use but cautioned me that if a window or door was opened, I needed to alert the control room, because they would be monitoring this location as a hot spot, giving it extra attention so that any alert would get an immediate response. To keep us hidden, we needed to prevent a fully armed response team from pulling up if it wasn't needed, so I couldn't just "forget" to call if a door or window opened.

I was quickly hitting that overload point where my head was aching, my eyes wanted to close, and I'd give my last Tasty Cake to be able to lie down and sleep for a few hours – or days.

Tank stopped talking and looked at me for a moment, before summing it all up by saying, "Just stay inside, and if something goes off, call the office, but no matter what else happens, don't shoot it."

I narrowed my eyes at him, and Tank laughed. He didn't just smile or snicker; he howled with rocking laughter. It was hard to stay mad at him when he was obviously having such a good time. Even though I wasn't entirely sure I knew what was so funny, I did remember shooting the first security system Ranger had Hector install in my apartment, so if he'd been told that story, I could see why he felt the warning was necessary.

"Yuck it up, big guy," I told him, unable to get the necessary amount of outrage in my voice to calm him down any.

He finally managed to pull himself together long enough to look down at me. "All right, Little Girl, you'll be fine. You may feel alone, but we're only a phone call away, and we'll do anything you need while you're taking care of one of the guys."

Tank turned to walk away, but I called out to him, causing him to stop and spin back to look at me. "Are you sure I can do this?"

"We already went over this," he began. "Bossman said yes, and I've learned to never doubt Ranger."

"What about you?" I pushed, needing more than just his pledge of Ranger's belief from a distance away. "Do you think I can do it?"

"I got no doubt," he replied, completely confident. "I've seen you handle a lot worse than this and come out on the other side. You'll be fine."

"Thanks," I said as a weak response. I guess I'd just needed to know there was someone close by that believed I was capable of handling whatever this might require.

We were both quiet until Bobby came back into the room and said my name. I spun around, surprised to hear him, since I'd assumed he was in the den.

"Manny's waking up, so I want you to prep his meds and give them to him just so you have the practice."

I moved right away, remembering what the nurse at the hospital had said about how he would be in so much extra pain because of the movement to get him here. Bobby had a card in his hand with pain medication information, dosage, the name of the drug, and where to inject it. He talked me through prepping the needle and using the port in his IV to give Manny the meds.

It took about five minutes after I injected it for Manny to settle back down. He'd never fully woken up, but he was moving, and his face was definitely showing the stress of the pain he was in.

I couldn't look away until I saw him relax, and then I glanced up at Bobby and asked, "How soon before I can give him more?"

Bobby showed me how to make notes in Manny's file and how to know when he could have more. Then we talked about things I could do to help him if he began to wake up between allowable doses. In the end, it boiled down to distracting him as long as possible.

He said, "You'll be great at that, because you are the RangeMan distraction expert."

I rolled my eyes. "Somehow, I don't think me dressing up like a slut and using bar pick-up lines will help Manny to feel any better."

"You'd be surprised how little it takes to make a guy stop thinking about the pain in his body," Bobby replied. "But if you ever want to practice that particular pain management technique, I'll gladly be your test subject."

I smacked his shoulder and grinned. "You've been hanging out with Lester far too long."

"I'm hurt, Steph, really," he replied with a fake pout. "How do you know that all this time, Santos hasn't been copying my moves?"

"I'm not going to dignify that with a response," I replied, glad to have someone around to joke with.

No sooner had I thought that then Bobby announced he'd done everything here he could, so he was leaving. I felt myself start to panic as I ran through all the possible things that could go wrong as soon as Bobby disappeared.

"I'll be back at dinnertime," he replied, sensing my unease at him leaving. "If it gets to be too much, let me know, and we'll try to make some other arrangements, but remember, this was the plan that Ranger came up with, so he definitely believed you could do it."

I figured that was true, so I decided to act as though I trusted him and believed what he said. Anything else would be an insult to the guys that had done so much for me over the last few years.

Bobby reminded me of all the instructions he'd typed out and then let himself out, reminding me to set the security system. I rolled my eyes at his fatherly reminder to lock up after he left but dutifully moved over to the keypad and entered the code the guys had given me.

Once that was done, I turned around and faced the living room, leaning against the cool wall for support. It felt surreal to be back here without my great-grandparents being here as well. I wondered if they would have minded me hiding in their house? Probably not. They used to help me hide from my mother when she would announce we had to leave. I could remember my great-grandfather, my Nagypapa as I had called him holding open the cabinet door in the kitchen and pointing for me to climb in.

_He put his fingers to his lips and told me, "Shhh, I help you," before shutting the door behind me and whistling to cover up the noise I was undoubtedly making moving the pots and pans out of my way. Nagymama came in and asked what he was doing in her kitchen, and he just laughed and said he was putting things away. I'm sure he also gestured to her where I was hiding, but she kept his secret and played along so that I could hide from my mother for at least ten minutes until Mom began to yell that if I didn't come out that instant, then I couldn't have any doughnuts after mass on Sunday. I instantly jumped, knowing she would hold true to her word, and before I could move to touch the door, Nagyapapa opened it instead and knelt down to say, "Game's over. We lost to doughnuts." _

That memory made me want to go to the kitchen and see if by any chance Ella had thought to pick up any pastries. As I walked into the outdated kitchen, I saw a white bag and knew what was inside. Leaning against the cabinet I'd once hidden in, I took a deep breath and shut my eyes while biting into a fresh Boston cream. As I chewed, I could swear I heard his voice whispering, "Shhh, I help you still."

Obviously, I need some sleep – soon. But if I was going to hallucinate, at least the ghost I was conjuring up was a friendly one.


	4. Cleaning Up

_JE created the characters below that I'm shamelessly abusing for my own fun._

_Jenny (JenRar) you are an incredible beta, and I consider myself lucky to be able to work with you._

**Chapter 4 – Cleaning Up**

For the next twelve hours, I seemed to move in a fog. I napped a little, too worried about Manny to truly sleep. He looked horrible; the only consolation I had was that he didn't really look any worse than he had at the hospital.

I had followed Bobby's directions to the letter, having read them enough now to have them all memorized. Manny hadn't woken up fully since we'd gotten here, but he had made some noises in his sleep when it got close to time for me to top off his meds. I couldn't imagine the pain he had to be in, and I wondered how much of this I could handle. He might be the one with all the injuries, but taking care of him was starting to make me hurt, too.

After topping him off the moment the second hand crossed over the most recent two hour threshold, the cell phone the guys had given me began to ring. When I answered, Bobby was on the line, saying he was about to knock on the door. As soon as he said it, I heard four knocks just as they'd done at St. Elizabeth's, so I punched in the code and opened the door. As soon as he walked in, I relocked it and armed the system once more. Bobby smiled at my actions while dialing up someone else and telling them he had just entered, so the alarm was him.

With all that handled, he finally put his phone away and said, "How's the patient?"

I shrugged. "I've done everything you told me to, but he hasn't woken up."

Bobby and I moved to the den so that he could examine Manny himself. I sat down on the sofa and watched Bobby move with such ease. He did a bunch of checks I understood and a few I hadn't seen before. Then he said he was going to change the dressings and do some other things that I might not want to watch.

"Why don't you take a shower and change? You've got to be exhausted," he suggested.

I wanted to refuse, to stay and watch what he was doing, but I did feel the need to be clean. I also had a feeling that if Bobby thought I wouldn't want to see something, it was probably an understatement, so I took his advice and went in search of my duffle bag so that I could get clean.

I walked into the bathroom and felt eight years old again. The bright flowers on the wall and the orange and brown tiles reminded me of the nights I'd slept over here and how Nagymama would draw a bath for me and sprinkle all kinds of things in the water. She would put salts in for my skin and then different flowers to float on top. I remembered her explaining what the various blossoms were for: one was for good luck, one to ward off evil, one to make me fertile, and one was for love. I had no idea what the flowers were, but I remembered really loving it when she would go through the routine and then settle me in the tub before telling me, "Stay in there 'til the water is cold, child. You want the flowers to do their job, and you can't rush the things the Earth does." I'd had no idea what it meant, but I'd loved being allowed to take a long bath instead of having to rush through it like I usually did at home where we only had one bathroom.

Since Bobby was here I took a fast shower, glad to have the chance to get the effects of the day off of me. I wasn't sure how long I should linger, so I put my hand on the knob to shut it off, but I felt something cool on my hand, so I pulled it back. The water felt so good and that was such a strange sensation that I stood there for a minute with my hand back under the spray to get that icy feel off. I shut my eyes and took a deep breath. I could swear I heard, "That's it, child." My eyes bolted open, and I jerked the shower curtain open to be sure I was alone. Seeing no one and verifying the bathroom door was still closed, I shook my head and shut off the water, toweling off quickly and throwing on the clothes I'd packed.

I needed to talk to Bobby about how safe it would be for me to sleep, because obviously the exhaustion was catching up with me faster than my adrenaline could push it away.

When I went back to the den, Bobby was pulling the sheet back up over Manny's waist before tugging it around so that his injured leg was still uncovered.

"How is he?" I asked.

Bobby nodded and then explained, "He's doing great considering what he's been through."

"What else can I do for him?" I wondered, figuring if I was stuck in here anyway, I may as well keep busy.

"Nothing, really," Bobby replied much to my disappointment. "What you are doing is all he needs right now."

"Do you think it would be safe for me to sleep a little?" I asked, hoping it didn't sound too selfish in light of what Manny had gone through.

"Absolutely," Bobby replied, before doing what I considered to be a Merry Man version of an eye roll. "I'm sorry, Steph. I hadn't thought about how exhausted you must be. I can hang out here for a few hours so that you don't have to wake up to check on him. Why don't you find a bed and crash for awhile?"

I wanted to argue but figured he wouldn't have offered if he didn't mean it, so I nodded and went to the room I used to sleep in when I stayed here. The plethora of colors in the room made me blink like the sun was in my eyes. I had been blaming the décor of the house on the time period my great-grandparents lived here, but in thinking about it now, I think that was an unfair accusation to the seventies. I was convinced in looking at this that they just really liked bright colors. I didn't even pull back the covers before collapsing on the bed and falling asleep as soon as the pillow caught my head.

I woke up when I felt a hand shaking my shoulder and forced my eyes to focus on the person I was about to yell at for ruining what had been the best nap I'd had in a long time. When I saw that it was Bobby, who obviously didn't deserve my hostility, I tried to relax and make myself sit up.

"I'm sorry I can't stay any longer, Steph," he explained. "I just got a call from the control room; one of the guys running a redecorating job got a knife in the side, so I have to check it out."

I glanced at the clock and saw I'd gotten four hours, so I knew that despite the fact that I felt like I'd been hit by a truck, I couldn't really complain.

"I started a pot of coffee in case you need some," he said, enticing me to stand up and start moving.

"You are a god among men," I told him, starting to feel normal after getting the naptime kinks out of my body.

"That's right, Steph. You say the sweetest things to a guy in the bedroom, but would you make that same confession in front of all the guys?" he teased.

I smacked him and said, "Only if you did something that deserved it like making me coffee."

"Come on," he said with a laugh, pulling my hand either to guide me faster or to keep me from hitting him again, I wasn't sure which.

He went over what he'd done for Manny, and when he mentioned changing his catheter, I knew I'd made the right call to take a shower and give them some privacy.

"When do you think he will start to wake up?" I asked, not sure if it would be a good thing or not.

"I think we should keep him pretty heavily sedated for another day just to give his body a break after all it's been through. Sometime tomorrow, we'll start stretching the treatments out a little more to see how he's responding," Bobby explained while grabbing his windbreaker, obviously preparing to leave.

"Can I give him a bath?" I blurted out as we walked to the door.

Bobby turned around and blinked at me a few times, as though I'd just spoken in a foreign language. "If you can figure out how to do it without moving his leg or wetting the bandages I just changed, that would be okay."

It wasn't like I had anything else to do, so I figured it would keep me busy and probably make Manny feel better at the same time. After going through the clearance process of getting Bobby out, I set the alarm and started gathering supplies for cleaning Manny a little bit.

I found a basin in the bathroom and looked around in the drawers for something other than bar soap to get him clean. That's when I found glass bottles that had dried flowers in them. I pulled them all out, a little lost in my memory and touched that Grandma Mazur had kept these after all these years.

I pulled out the cork on the cap and sniffed one. It was pleasant, which shocked me after all this time. Then I noticed each of the bottles had writing on them, which I knew belonged to Nagymama. I couldn't read it, as it was in Hungarian. I looked at my watch and knew I had an hour and a half before Manny would need anything, so I carefully put all the bottles in the empty basin and took them back to the den to line them up on the coffee table, which had been pushed against the wall to make room for Manny's bed.

I grabbed the laptop, hoping it was fully charged, and pulled up a Hungarian to English translator online to work through each of the words she'd written on the bottles. I found myself sorting the various bottles by the descriptives. Love, passion, and fertility all went into the pile of bottles to be quickly hidden. Strength, courage, and sleep all went into the keep pile, but when I saw the bottle marked healing, I knew I had a winner. I pulled the cap off and took a sniff, not really smelling anything. I poured some out in my hand and tried again, only to get a faint hint of trees, like at Christmas. I figured he wouldn't mind being made to smell like the outdoors, so I put all the others away, packed up the laptop, and filled the basin with warm water before adding a pinch of the mystery stuff in my hand.

Knowing that wasn't going to do anything to get him clean, I also added a little of the body wash that had been mixed in with all the other medical paraphernalia. I decided to use a traditional washcloth so I could better control what I was wetting. He had a good number of bandages on him, and Bobby said to keep them as dry as possible. Finally having everything together that I thought I'd need, I made my way back to the den.

"All right, Manny," I said aloud, needing to talk to him even if he couldn't hear me or respond in any way. "I'm going to get you cleaned up, and then you'll feel much better so that you can rest easy."

I talked to him about nothing in particular and worked as carefully as possible. I started with his face, surprised at how much better his skin tone looked just from getting him clean. Encouraged that what I was doing was obviously worth it, I worked down his neck and arms, noting how strong the muscles felt along his biceps. There were a few bandages to be worked around, but other than those, I just worked and hummed or talked.

By the time I'd finished with his chest, I wondered if I should go any farther. The water was looking a little discolored, so I dumped it out and made a fresh basin complete with Nagymama's healing herbs and some bodywash. Then I realized I had a major decision to make. I knew Manny had a catherter in, which made me wonder if he had on any clothes under the sheet. And if he was naked, how much should I try to clean? I mean, obviously if I was trying to get all the grime away, I should get everything, including his groin, but that would mean touching his…well, his little Manny, and I felt like that was wrong, since he was completely unconscious.

Finally, I decided to treat it like a band aid and just rip the sheet back. I stood to the side, gripped the sheet in my fist, turned my head to look away, and then pulled it back. Thankfully, no one was there to watch me open only one eye and look back over my shoulder at the site of a fully naked man in front of me.

My first thought was how damn good looking he was. I'd never noticed it as much on Manny because I didn't spend much time with him, and he didn't wear his shirts as skin tight as some of the other guys, but he was definitely stacked. But before my Hungarian hormones could run crazy with thoughts of his body, I realized the extent of his injuries was evident, as well.

Aside from the major cast on his leg and arm, the bruising was purple and black, his darker skin tone doing nothing to hide the damage done to his body. After seeing just how hurt he really was, I no longer saw him as a sexy man asleep in front of me, but as a vulnerable one in need of care and protection.

I shifted to all business, beginning with the toes of his good leg and working my way up to his hips. I finally decided he was completely asleep and drugged to keep from waking up, so it would be safe to clean all his "equipment." But once I put the washcloth on what I now referred to mentally as "little Manny," I pulled my hand back, leaving the moist cloth there. I realized I wasn't able to keep the same detachment over his penis as I had about the rest of him. I looked at the ceiling, trying to concentrate on anything other than the sexual organ under the wet rag.

A low moan from Manny made me jump as I grabbed the cloth, perhaps more roughly than necessary, and threw it in the basin. Not wanting him to wake up and notice his nudity and my red checks, I quickly moved the sheet up to cover him, pulling it all the way to his chin for good measure.

It was exactly time for his next top off of medication, so I quickly got a fresh syringe, measured the meds as Bobby had taught me, and injected it into the port. Manny's face was beginning to show an expression that I couldn't figure out. It was part pain, part confusion, and perhaps a little anger. Tossing that combination off to how uncomfortable he had to be, I waited until the cocktail I'd given him kicked in and he relaxed once more.

Once I was absolutely positive he was asleep, I got up and put away the evidence of the bath. Then I made a note in his file that I'd cleaned him up and set the timer to go off in two hours in case I fell asleep and missed it.

The next twenty-four hours moved exactly like that. I gave Manny his meds, changed his IV bag, and made notes in his chart. Between tasks, I napped here and there, just enough to keep myself functioning but not enough to get rid of the overwhelming feeling of exhaustion.

By the time Bobby came the next night, I felt like I was running on fumes and hoped I could find a way to talk him into letting me take another nap. When I heard the familiar four knocks, I instantly ran to the door and jerked it open.

"Do I need to tell you how foolish that was?" Bobby asked, the smile on his face totally undoing the stern look he was attempting to go for.

I must have looked confused, because he added, "You didn't check to see who was knocking, or even call out for an ID."

"Well, you did use the secret knock," I explained, not sure why he was making such a big deal out of this.

He came in, called RangeMan to confirm he was here, and then watched as I reset the alarm. Only after that was all finished did he speak again. "I'm sorry to be harsh," he apologized. "But we still don't know for certain who did this to Manny. We have suspicions, but nothing has been proven yet, so there is no way to guarantee you remain hidden unless you help us to keep you protected."

I let out a long breath. This was all so much more complicated than I'd imagined it would be when I'd signed on to help. "I'm sorry, Bobby. I was glad to have a little company."

He pulled me to him in a hug, as though he were sorry to have gotten on my case. "I know this is hard, Steph. You're doing amazingly, really. I just hate that we aren't doing more to ensure your safety, and it's driving me crazy with worry."

"You're here now," I pointed out, hoping to get him away from thoughts of his worries about me.

"Let's check on our patient." Bobby accepted my subject change and moved into the den to run through all the checks he needed to do on Manny. Then he picked up the folder where I'd been recording everything and asked, "When is he due his next med top off?"

I glanced at the clock quickly and said, "Maybe ten minutes."

"Good. We're going to wait and see how he does when we miss it," Bobby explained. "We need to start stretching out the time between doses, and I need to get a pain reference from him to see if we need to change anything in his treatment."

"Okay, but he seems to get uncomfortable really quickly at the two hours mark," I pointed out, not really wanting to see Manny suffer.

Bobby tilted his head, as though he were confused. "Uncomfortable? How do you know that?"

"Sometimes, he'll make a little noise, and he gets a look on his face like he's upset, almost angry, so I assumed it was from the pain," I told him.

Bobby sat down hard in the chair I'd pulled over to be near the hospital bed. Then he put his hand over his face and rubbed the skin hard like he was attempting to clean the features completely off his face. "Damn it!" he finally spoke, making me wonder if his silence wasn't somehow preferable.

"What?" I asked, growing more worried by the second.

"Look, on his best day, Manny isn't the greatest patient at RangeMan. He's a physical guy; well, we all are, but Manny more than most. And these injuries are going to slow him down. I don't know if we'll ever get that leg and knee back to normal. He'll be able to walk around, but the grueling regimen he had of running and doing climbing drills…I doubt he'll be able to do it at the same level he used to," Bobby said, still holding his temples with his thumb and middle finger, like he was trying to squeeze his brain to make this easier.

"Plus…" Then he stopped and shook his head, like his internal censor had kicked in.

"Plus what?" I wondered, not about to let him stop talking where he'd left off.

"Well, were you aware that Manny had pulled his medical power of attorney from RangeMan?" he questioned.

"Ranger mentioned it. That was why I needed to pose as his wife, because in addition to the forged paperwork you had, it also gave me legal next-of-kin status to get him out of there," I replied, trying to remember what all Ranger had said when he'd woken me up to ask for my help.

"All that is true, but none of us knew why he'd pulled the papers from RangeMan, and Manny isn't a big talker, so it's not like he told anybody so we'd have a clue what he was thinking," Bobby rambled, not really explaining enough for me to calm down.

"What are you saying?" I pushed, hoping he wasn't about to clam up on me.

Bobby finally dropped his hand from his head and looked me in the eye. "I'm saying there's a more than likely chance that when he wakes up, he's going to be pissed as hell that we overrode his wishes and busted him out of that hospital. That on top of the fact that he's going to be hurting and will quickly come to understand these injuries will have some long-lasting effects is definitely going to make him hard to handle. Since he's never been a happy patient, I'm worried that when he wakes up, he's going to take all this out on you."

Ah, now I got it. "He can't get out of the bed, right?"

Bobby looked at me like I'd lost my mind. "No, it will be a while before he'll be able to move around on his own."

"Then, it doesn't matter how he wakes up," I assured Bobby. "He can't walk out of here, and I'm determined to help him get better, so he'll just have to deal with the fact that we got him out of the hospital to save his life and let the rest go."

"If it were anybody else, I'd agree with you," Bobby responded solemnly. "But if he's already looking angry, I'm thinking we won't be so lucky."

Manny began to make a few slight moaning noises, drawing our attention back to him. I looked at his face and watched as the resting expression began to harden and was replaced with that expression I'd seen before.

Bobby moved to stand beside me. "If it gets too bad, you can always drug him again. I'll keep his ass knocked out before I'll let him treat you like shit over this."

"Oh, Bobby, you silver tongued devil," I teased, hoping to lighten the mood. "You say the sweetest things to defend my honor."

He nudged me with his shoulder but smiled at the same time. Before either of us could say anything else, Manny's eyes began to flutter, as though he were fighting to wake up. I moved closer to be in his field of vision, but Bobby put his hands on my hips and pulled me back. I looked at him about to question what he was doing, but Manny spoke first.

"Brown?"

Bobby moved to take the place where I'd been and responded, "Yeah, man, I'm here."

"You—" Manny stopped to swallow and then continued with a deep furrow in his forehead "—son of a bitch."

"I didn't know you cared, man," Bobby teased. At least, I thought he was teasing. He wasn't smiling at all, so that made it hard to tell.

"What happened?" Manny asked as a follow up.

"We were hoping you might have some news," Bobby responded, his tone a little softer. "We think you were recognized and somebody in the organization you were infiltrating tried to take you out with a car bomb."

"Sounds familiar," Manny said, giving up his attempt to open his eyes. "Can't go back to RangeMan."

"No, not until we figure out who did it. Boss is still in there, so we can't risk them trying the same thing to Ranger," Bobby agreed.

"Pull the guards and leave. They'll make the connection when they see you," Manny tried ordering.

"No need, man. We've already busted you out," Bobby explained, looking like he was pleased with the direction the conversation was taking.

"How?" Manny's eyes shot open. "I pulled your authority."

"True," Bobby replied, "and we still need to talk about that shit. What in the hell were you thinking?"

Manny grimaced, telling me he was uncomfortable, but I was trying to stay out of it, because it sounded like a conversation that needed to happen. "None of your damn business," Manny cut off Bobby's question.

At that point, I couldn't stop myself from interfering. "All that matters now is that you're safe," I said, moving to stand at the other side of the bed.

Manny turned his head slowly to look at me, narrowing his eyes, as though that would somehow help with the focus, and then he moved back quickly to look at Bobby. "Why is she here?"

Bobby grinned at that question. "Manny, your _wife_, here, is how we got you out of the hospital without implicating RangeMan or blowing Ranger's cover."

"My…wha—?" Obviously he was struggling to keep up with the conversation.

"Your wife," Bobby repeated, helping him out.

Manny quickly found his voice again to adamantly state his lack of joy for the news of his matrimony. "I'm not married."

"On paper, you are, and that's all that mattered to the hospital when Stephanie marched in there, demanding they release you," Bobby offered, beginning to lose the smile that had been on his face.

"Whose fucked up idea was that?" Manny asked, beginning to build a head of steam as the drugs wore off.

"Ranger's," Bobby said flatly, matching Manny's mood with his own. "And if you want to kick somebody's ass for it, you'll have to wait for him to finish the assignment and get back."

Manny looked down the bed and stopped when he saw his leg, sticking out from under the sheet. "What's that?"

"Your leg," Bobby replied, trying to pull the tiger's tail.

"No shit, Sherlock." Manny was clearly unimpressed with Bobby's wit. "What's wrong with me?"

"Concussion, multiple lacerations, fractured arm, broken ribs, deep tissue bruising, a burn or two, shattered knee, and torn ACL," he listed off the injuries quickly. "The leg and knee are obviously the worst of it."

Manny mumbled something that I thought sounded a lot like not part of the plan.

"Yeah," Bobby interrupted his rant. "Sometimes the plan gives us the finger and we have to move onto Plan B, asshole."

This was the strangest conversation I'd ever seen at RangeMan. I'd always thought Bobby had the most wonderful bedside manner, so seeing him this hard and calloused was impossible to reconcile to the gentle man who always treated me so tenderly.

"Don't you think I know that?" Manny demanded, balling up a fist at the end of his good arm. "Plan B is what I was doing when I took the authority away from RangeMan."

"RangeMan doesn't allow suicide missions on our watch," Bobby replied flatly, as though he'd figured out what Manny was going on about.

Unfortunately, I was completely in the dark and feeling the need to diffuse the rapidly growing tension.

"All that matters now is that you have a place to get better, and then once you're up for it, this whole mess should be sorted out," I said, using that sunny disposition that seemed to work so well for other people.

Manny looked at me like my second head must have spoken before saying, "She has to go."

Bobby straightened up and crossed his arms in front of him before shaking his head no. "Actually, _she _is your round the clock nurse. I'm only here for a quick check up once a day, and then the rest of my day is spent being as public as possible so that no one can accuse RangeMan of harboring an injured agent possibly in possession of classified information."

"Has Ranger lost his fucking mind?" Manny practically yelled.

There was no immediate response. If anything, Manny's tone and words seemed to make Bobby get a few inches taller and lot meaner looking. My friendly medic was nowhere to be found in the hard eyes looking down at the injured man in the hospital bed.

"We pulled Steph from her life to take care of you. You want to be pissed at Ranger, then wait until he's back and you can get your broken ass out of that bed. But for now, I have to trust that she's safe when I leave you two alone for the next twenty-four hours."

"You expect me to keep her safe with my broken ass?" Manny asked, turning Bobby's words back on him.

"No, I expect you not to make her life a living hell just because you're upset about what the boss did to keep you alive. We've got plenty of systems in place to keep you both covered," Bobby replied flatly.

Then he turned away from Manny and looked directly at me. "Everything's fine here. Keep doing what you've been doing and call me if there are any changes. I left updated med instructions in the folder so he can be awake a little more. And I think it's a good idea to start trying to sit him up some in the bed. I put the details of that in there for you, too." Then he glanced back down at Manny before adding, "Feel free to keep him knocked out if he gives you too much shit."

I swallowed hard at that. Obviously this was about to get a lot more difficult. And as much as I was unsure what to make of Manny's anger, I was beginning to think I agreed with his initial question.

Had Ranger lost his mind when he asked me to do this?


	5. Drugs and the Power of a Friend

_All the credit and the royalties for the characters below belong to JE._

_Jenny (JenRar) I don't have the right words to thank you for your hard work as the beta on this story. That's probably because when I get stuck on something you help me to fix it, so please feel free to insert your own compliment here. _

**Chapter 5 – Drugs and the Power of a Friend**

After Bobby left, I stood at the front door, wondering what I had gotten myself into. Obviously Manny was upset that RangeMan had gone behind his back and acted on his behalf, and he seemed even less thrilled about how they'd gotten him out of the hospital. And since I was the only person here and the one that had paraded around going on and on about how this was my husband, I had a feeling he was going to have a lot to say that I wasn't going to want to hear.

I stood there, trying to come up with an opening line to say when I got back to the den, and coming up completely blank. Honestly, I was hiding because I didn't want him to fuss at me, but that sounded like a wimp's way out, so coming up with something to say gave me a justification for staying out of his sight.

"You're no coward," I heard as plain as day in a voice that I swore sounded like Nagypapa's whisper.

Damn, I hadn't gotten the nap I'd been hoping for while Bobby was here, and now it was too late and I was losing my mind.

Deciding it was better to have Manny yell at me than the whispered voice of someone who'd been dead for twenty years, I found the strength to push away from the front door and head back into the den.

Manny's eyes were closed, and at first glance, it appeared he was asleep, but I could see the hard lines in his face, and since I knew how relaxed he looked when he was really out of it, I knew he was faking. Figuring two could play at that game, I chose to ignore him. I picked up the notes Bobby had referred to and began reading about what I needed to do differently.

If I'd thought it had been difficult to keep up with his treatment so far, I'd had no idea what was in store for me. Now he needed to begin some simple movements and stretches to keep his strength in the leg and arm he could still use. I had to begin introducing a liquid diet if Manny would cooperate, and we needed to get him drinking in small increments to subsidize the nutrients from his IV. There were all kinds of other suggestions of things to do or not do, as well, and my mind began to swim from all the information.

When my stomach started growling, I decided I'd absorbed as much as I could for now, and I went to the kitchen to find something that I could eat. It didn't take long to find an Ella meal, premade with microwave instructions on top, so I heated it up and stood at the sink to eat the casserole of sorts with cheese, chicken, and noodles. I wanted to go out to the den where it would be more comfortable, but it seemed wrong to eat in front of someone who hadn't been cleared for food yet, so I cleaned my plate as quickly as possible, trying to make no noise as I ate.

"You don't have to hide in there," Manny called out at the exact moment I took my last bite.

"What makes you think I'm hiding?" I asked, without moving from the sink.

"You don't cook," he replied, as though it were obvious. "Of all the rooms it would make sense for you to hang out in, the kitchen is the least likely."

I took my time washing my fork and plate, putting them in the drain to dry, and then moved to the den, hoping my own temper would cool off before I saw him.

"I was having something to eat, not hiding. But next time, I'll be sure to bring my food in here and wave it in front of your face before informing you that you can't have any."

He made a sound I couldn't identify that could have been irritation at my come back or irritation at himself for missing what I was doing and jumping to the wrong conclusion.

"Look, I get that you're stuck here with me, and I don't know what the boss had to threaten you with to get you to do this, so you don't have to avoid me at all costs. I know you've been drafted here just like me," he offered as an explanation. I couldn't tell if that was supposed to be an apology, but I elected to take it as an olive branch.

"Actually, he didn't threaten," I pointed out, thinking it might help if he knew why I was here. "He said he needed help, so I volunteered."

"Bet you'll think twice about volunteering next time, won't you?" he laughed without really sounding amused.

"Not really," I countered. "You guys have all done a lot for me, so if there's something that I can do to repay that, I'm happy to help."

"Ah, guilt. Now it makes sense," he mumbled.

"Excuse me? I don't understand what you mean." I was trying to be polite, but something in the way he'd said that made me feel like I'd been insulted.

"Guilt," he repeated. "It's a powerful motivator. You aren't here because you want to be; you're here because you feel guilty about what Ranger's done for you, so you're trying to repay the debt."

I stood there for a minute, trying to figure out how to respond. I could feel my temper rising, and even though I knew rhino mode in this situation wasn't fair to Manny, I couldn't stop myself. "Did you just call me some sort of RangeMan business whore?"

"Where in the hell did you get that?" He jerked his head to finally look directly at me.

"I'm paying off a debt to Ranger by doing whatever _services_ he requests out of guilt?" I rephrased what he'd said.

"That's not how I meant it," he replied.

"I think until the drugs are out of your system a little more to clear your head, you should refrain from trying to explain yourself any further," I advised, for once thinking sitting in silence would be preferable to this conversation.

"I'm not trying to be a jerk," he said softly, making me regret speaking so harshly to him. "It's just that of all the people they could have tapped to put on lockdown with me, it makes no sense for Ranger to pick you, because it puts you in danger."

Now it was my turn to laugh without much real humor in it. "We may not have worked together that much, but you should know by now that my life seems to be in near constant danger on its own. This isn't anything out of the ordinary for me. If you aren't happy about being stuck with the incompetent girl then just say so. You don't have to make up reasons to blame Ranger."

"I never called you incompetent," he blurted out with strength in his voice.

I believed him, which did a great deal to diffuse my growing irritation.

"You're untrained and unpredictable, which can be a dangerous combination, but you've been able to make it work for you so far, so who am I to judge?"

"So you're just mad at the situation?" I tried to clarify. "Not necessarily mad about being trapped here with me?"

He hesitated before answering and then replied, "I'm not one of the guys that believes you can do no wrong and you're an angel sent to walk among us, if that's what you're asking. If I'm angry at anybody, it's Ranger for intentionally doing something I'd made clear I didn't want done. My attitude has nothing to do with who I'm stuck with here."

"Trust me, I think most of the guys agree that I'm no angel, and I've given them more than enough evidence about how much I can do wrong. If anything, you should be questioning what you did to deserve being saddled with me as your only company for a while," I bluntly pointed out. I knew I was basically kicking him while he was down, but his whole attitude was making it hard for me to keep my mouth shut.

Without bothering to ask if he needed anything, I went to the kitchen and found a cup with a lid and straw that Ella had brought, filled it with water, and brought it back to Manny. "Here," I said, lowering the straw to his lips.

He tried to take it, but I had to hold it for him, as his hand wasn't cooperating.

"Bobby said the drugs would keep you really foggy," I explained when he took a sip and then grimaced upon swallowing. I might be irritated with his attitude, but there was no way I was going to gloat in his suffering. "Is there anything I can get for you, to help you be more comfortable?"

He released the straw after another, longer draw on it and shook his head no. "I'm guessing I'm not allowed to have anything, right?"

"We could try sitting the bed up a little, which would let you watch some television." I pointed to a flat screen the guys had mounted on the wall straight ahead of him. "And if you're in pain, I give you some meds for that of various strengths, depending on how bad it is."

"No more drugs," he quickly stated.

I tried to keep from smiling at that comment. "Bobby said there are some meds that are non-negotiable. There's an antibiotic and an anti-inflammatory that you absolutely must take. He has three different kinds of pain relief, but stated for the next twenty-four hours, you have to have something at least every four hours. I've also got a little something that will help you sleep at night if the pain is keeping you from resting."

"Damn, I'm stuck in a bed, pissing in a fucking bag, and being pumped full of a freaking pharmacy," his mumbled, allowing his eyes to close as he listed off his condition. "And Bobby wants to know why I'm irritated that he pulled me out to keep somebody from offing me while I was unconscious."

When he put it like that, it was hard to argue against it, so I decided to try what I was best at and work a little distraction. "I'm going to watch a game," I stated out of the blue. "Do you want me to do it in the living room so I don't disturb you, or do you want it in here so you can have a little something to look at, too?"

"It makes no difference," he replied with a voice devoid of emotion.

I took that as permission to do it in the den, so I grabbed the remote, found a hockey game with the Rangers playing and then bumped the angle of his bed up slightly so he could see the screen if he wanted to.

Three hours later, he was asleep, so I decided to try the middle option of the three Bobby had provided for pain management and injected that while he was too out of it to fight me. I knew he'd said no to any drugs and I should probably feel bad about disregarding another of his wishes, but at the moment, I was more concerned about how much grumpier he'd be if he were in pain. I didn't think I could handle him if he was even worse than he'd been before his most recent nap.

My cell phone rang after I'd finished topping off Manny's medication, so I jumped to grab it before it woke him up.

Cal's friendly voice responded to my greeting. "Hey, Steph. How would you feel about a little company?"

A noise of agreement came out of me before I could edit it down.

A laugh came back before he instructed, "Then come open the door, and I'll amaze you with my skills in conversation."

I punched in the code and swung the door open to see the smiling face of Cal with his cell phone still at his ear. He shut his phone and stepped in to draw me to him in a hug.

"It's good to see you, Steph," he spoke against my hair.

After his friendly greeting, I reset the alarm while he called the control room to report the door being opened, and then we walked into the den, where Manny was still snoozing in front of the commentary after the game I'd been watching.

I grabbed the remote to turn it off, but Cal shook his head and reached out for the controller, which I surrendered, rolling my eyes at how no guy can be in a room with a television unless he has the ability to control the device himself. I walked around the bed and handed the remote to Cal, who sat in the easy chair and then grabbed my wrist to pull me into his lap.

Feeling too tired to fight him, I didn't argue about it and flopped down, glad to be getting a little comfort, even if it was coming from a person I wouldn't have expected it from.

"How are you holding up?" he asked gently, pushing my head to rest on his shoulder.

"I'm okay," I replied more from habit than fact.

"You're lying, but I'm going to let it slide this time, since I haven't really asked you that before, but next time, I'm going to expect you to tell me the truth, okay?" Cal asked, waiting so that I had to respond.

"Deal," I responded.

He sat there, letting me melt against him, until the next game came on. "Bobby called me and suggested you might need a little break for a nap, and he thought if Manny woke up, I might be able to talk some sense into him. I've worked with him more than most of the other guys have."

There was the answer to why Cal was here. "That'd be nice," I said, hearing the slur in my speech from my exhaustion.

The pillow that was his chest vibrated with laughter at my expense. "And Tank gave me a stack of searches in case you want something to do other than stare at Manny's grumpy ass."

At the mention of Manny's ass, I remembered giving him the bath this morning and knew my face turned red. I didn't want to let Cal notice my response and push for what was so embarrassing, so I said, "Tell Tank his thoughtfulness is overwhelming."

"I'll pass it along," he replied, squeezing me in his arms again in a reassuring way. Then he stood up from the chair as though I weighed nothing and the fact he was more than capable of lifting me like a doll provided for his amusement.

A squeaking sound came from me at the unexpected movement, and I flung my arms around his neck and shoulder to hang on, like I expected his strength to run out at any moment, causing me to hit the floor.

"Which room is yours?" Cal asked, being too much a gentleman to comment on my shock at being carried.

"Down the hall, first door on the right," I replied, amazed that he took off, still carting me around as though I weighed nothing.

When we walked into the room, Cal let out a whistle. "I don't know if I should applaud their bold use of color or run screaming from the room before I go blind."

I lifted my head and noticed that from where we were standing, it was pretty bright in here. "My great-grandparents were kind of out there."

He took me over the bed and set me on it gently, following me down to place yet another kiss on my cheek. "Get some rest, angel. I'll wake you up before I have to go."

I stretched out, and then what he'd just said struck me and reminded me of Manny's hostility from earlier. "I'm not an angel, you know."

He stopped walking and asked, "Why would you say that?"

"I'm not perfect," I explained. "I'm no angel."

"The two have nothing to do with each other," he corrected me. "You're an angel not because of your ability to follow rules, but because of the effect you have on us. You make us feel better about ourselves when we're around you." Before I could respond, he shut off the lights and walked out the door, leaving me in the dark about what he was saying in more ways than one.

I woke up with a start, as though someone had grabbed me, but when I turned over and looked around, it was just me alone in the room that was an experiment in color. I pushed my palms into my eyes, wishing that would help them to focus, and while my vision was shut down, I felt like a voice entered my ears to say, "Go. He needs you now."

"Who needs me?" I asked to the mystery voice, and then shook my head, remembering that I was here alone. I wasn't sure how long I'd slept, but it was obviously not long enough to keep me sane.

Instead of waiting for an answer, I stood up and tiptoed to the door of the room, carefully listening down the hall before stepping out to announce my presence.

I could hear Cal talking, not making any attempt to soften his voice. "Damn it, man, you can't even act grateful. He could have left you there to get a bullet in the head."

"He should have left me there to take a bullet in the head," Manny replied flatly. "He took a damn foolish risk busting me out that increased the chance of him being ratted out and not being able to take down this family."

"All right, so if you're pissed at Ranger, why are you bitching about Stephanie?" Cal followed up, making me wonder what Bobby had said to the tattooed man.

I could hear Manny let out a breath. If he'd been from the 'Burg, I would have imagined a big eye roll accompanying that huff as well. "He takes us to the mats when she gets a paper cut because we weren't paying attention, and then he picks her up and has her walk around telling everybody we're married to bust me out of the hospital. It's painted a big bull's-eye on her back that didn't need to be there."

"So you're acting like an ass because you're upset that Ranger put Stephanie in danger?" Cal asked, sounding skeptical.

"No. I don't need a damn nurse. He could have put me in a rehab center or hidden me in a safe house. He didn't need to bring her into this," Manny replied, sounding tired.

"No, he couldn't," Cal interrupted. Then he went to explain why those options wouldn't work because they either put Ranger into even more danger or implicated RangeMan by interfering in a classified federal investigation. When he finished talking, there was silence.

It stretched out long enough that I began to worry, so I walked quickly down the hall and announced my presence. "Thanks for the nap, Cal."

He spun around, making me mentally cheer that I'd gotten the jump on one of the guys.

I could see him warring with himself over leaving me alone with Manny, so I jumped in again. "I really appreciate you bringing by the files, and you can tell Tank that if I can pull myself away from the jigsaw puzzles long enough, I'll get to work on those for him."

He laughed at my joke before saying, "These aren't full fledged searches. They are more specific questions he's hoping you can answer, so I only brought a little portable printer, since you shouldn't need to run a lot of paper. Let me know if you need something better and I'll swing by tomorrow night when the visibility on the house is lower."

"Will do, big guy," I replied, trying to keep things light enough that neither of them would think I'd been eavesdropping.

It took a few minutes, but I did manage to get him out of the house before he caught on to my subterfuge.

When I returned to the den, I noticed right away that Manny looked like shit. He was more pale than he had been before my nap, and from this distance across the room, he almost looked shiny, making me think he'd been sweating. I glanced at the clock and saw I'd been asleep for more than four hours, which meant we'd definitely missed his next dose of meds. Even if he wouldn't admit it, he was obviously in pain.

I made an executive decision to numb him up without asking for permission, so I began filling a syringe with the more potent pain relief and his next dosage of antibiotics and anti-inflammatory drugs. When I spun around with the needle in hand, his eyes landed on me.

"What's that?" he asked, gritting his teeth slightly.

"Does it matter?" I pushed back, knowing I could probably take him right now if he decided to physically put up a fight.

"No drugs," he repeated his earlier command. "I don't like being loopy."

"I get that," I agreed, "but you're suffering, and this kind of strain on your body slows down the healing process. Besides, it's nighttime, so you'll be sleeping anyway, and this will help."

"What's in the needle?" he asked a little more firmly. I took a step closer, and he said, "Steph, tell me what you're going to do." There was a slight tremor in his voice. It definitely wasn't fear or panic, but there was that hint that he had no control, as though he knew that if I forced the issue, I could do anything to him I wanted and he couldn't fight it. He just needed to know what was happening.

I let my hand fall to the side, still gripping the syringe, and blew out a long breath. "It's just the antibiotic, anti-inflammatory, and some pain medication."

"I hate feeling so fuzzy," he repeated.

"I didn't put anything in it to help you sleep. So the pain meds might make you tired, but they won't knock you out. I didn't think it was right to do that since you said no," I told him, explaining what I'd done and hoping he saw the compromise as a good thing.

He nodded and turned his head away from the hand with the port in it. "Thanks."

Following the directions Bobby had given me, I gave him the meds and then made a note in the chart before glancing at the kitchen. "Do you want something to drink other than water?"

"I'd love a good beer," he said with a half smile.

"If I'd known it would make you crack a joke, I'd have drugged you sooner," I replied, falsely assuming his attempt at humor was a good thing.

"Don't flatter yourself," he threw out. "I'm just biding my time until I'm able to get up."

"Save your snarky comments, Manny," I bit out, feeling him hook my temper but not able to fight it. "I can easily fill that syringe again and knock your ass out."

His eyes got slightly bigger when I stood up to him, so instead of giving him the chance to make a comment in return, I quickly spun around and walked into the kitchen, looking for something else to eat. Ella had outdone herself in fixing and stocking all my favorites, but since all I was doing was sitting around inside, I had a feeling I needed more activity to balance out the rich foods I was eating.

Tomorrow, I'd see if there were some things I could do other than play nursemaid to a grumpy patient and running searches to satisfy Tank. But tonight, I was going to follow my own advice and medicate myself, too. The pint of Ben and Jerry's hidden in the freezer was exactly what this doctor ordered.


	6. Little Bits

_The characters below belong to JE._

_Jenny (JenRar) I can't thank you enough for the work you've done as the beta on this story._

**Chapter 6 – Little Bits**

I kept Manny topped off easily during the night without him waking up to catch me. Since my internal clock was completed screwed up, I found myself wide awake at five in the morning, so I rushed through a shower, got dressed, and decided to check out what Cal had brought the night before in the way of searches.

I wasn't trying to be extra quiet, but I didn't want to intentionally wake Manny, either, so I moved to the bar in the kitchen to work, sitting on a stool. The first two were requests for likely addresses other than home or work where a team could attempt to pick up a skip. One took a lot of searching, but I eventually came up with something. The second one was a guy from the 'Burg I'd gone to high school with, so I knew the answer to that without even having to open a search program.

Once I saw the file had been assigned to Cal, I picked up my phone and dialed his number. I assumed I'd get his voicemail, so I had my explanation ready to roll, but I got the man himself after barely half a ring.

"Yo," came the standard greeting.

"You guys should really submit to some kind of telephone skills one oh one training," I blurted out in response.

"Angel, what in the hell are you doing calling me at a quarter after six?" he asked, shocked to hear from me.

"Hey, you can tell time without referencing it in terms of military hours! Do you mind passing that along to some of the other guys?" I teased in return.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your voice this morning?" he questioned with a laugh.

"I've got an address for you so you can get the skip from the file you left last night," I told him, cutting to the chase.

"What file?" he asked, the sound of papers being moved in a frantic way in the background. "Oh hell, I'm sorry. I mixed my file in with the things I dropped off last night. I didn't mean to make you do my dirty work."

"No worries," I told him honestly, grinning at the fact that he'd basically just confessed that he was so disorganized, he'd lost a file. "And your secret is safe with me. Besides, you would have wasted your time going with the obvious pick up spots."

"All right, lay it on me. How much do I owe you for not only helping me do my job, but for covering my ass with the boss, too?" He sounded serious, so I knew I needed to say something, even though I thought it was a ridiculous question.

"If you showed up tonight to pick up these files and had a Pino's sub, I wouldn't turn it away," I offered.

"You mean all a guy has to do to get entrance into your life is feed you well?" He'd obviously picked up on my joke.

"Yeah, but don't pass that tidbit around, or I'll gain weight with everybody asking for help on their searches," I pretended to object.

We shot the shit for another few minutes, and then I gave him the info he needed. After I hung up, I realized it had been long enough that I needed to check on Manny again, so I hopped off the stool and tiptoed into the den.

"There's no reason to try to be quiet," he said when I was a few feet behind him. "I've been awake for awhile, and there is nothing stealthy about your walking skills."

"I guess there's no reason to ask how you feel this morning," I responded flatly.

"You should know, since you kept pumping me full of drugs through the night," he countered.

I was a pretty average person. I had people that didn't like me and people that did. But I'd never gotten this much direct hostility from someone I hadn't actually done anything to since Joyce decided to make my life a living hell in grade school. Since I refused to believe one of the guys from RangeMan could share anything in common with Joyce, I decided to try a different tactic and be a little nicer to test that whole adage about catching more flies with honey than vinegar.

"I was about to grab a cup of coffee. Can I get you one, too?" I offered, forcing my voice to be softer.

There was a dramatic pause before he said, "No, it makes me jittery on a good day, and since I can't exactly go to the gym and work it off, I'd regret it."

So he could be civil. That was good to know.

He cut through my thoughts about his rapid fire personality changes and asked, "Do you have any extra work from RangeMan I can do? I can't take many days of staring at the ceiling."

"Let me check to see what else I got from Tank," I told him, before going back the kitchen and getting myself a cup of coffee. There was no reason for me to suffer just because Manny couldn't hold his caffeine. Then I thumbed through the files from the office.

A few just had "Help" written on them, so I brought them into the den and set them on his lap before raising the head of the bed up so he could read a little easier.

After the initial wave of pain seemed to clear from his face after being moved, I pointed at the files and said, "I think the guys are looking for a little advice. It looks like someone already pulled all the background info, so they just need somebody to look through and pull out the details that matter."

I kept the files that needed more digging in my own stack and sat in the easy chair Cal had used the night before, resting the laptop on my crossed legs to go searching for missing details.

After no more than half an hour, Manny let out a long breath and said, "How in the hell am I supposed to come up with anything to be helpful? This is just page after page of random facts about the skip."

I leaned forward and took the one on his leg, lifting it gently to be sure I didn't accidently jar his injured limb. I flipped through and had a few things jump out at me. "Do you want me to point out what I usually do with files like this, or were you just asking rhetorically?" I thought it was clear what was needed, but I didn't want to step on his toes if it was going to piss him off again.

He shut the file he had been looking at and said, "Let me guess. You read that one, and the stars aligned to show you the perfect solution."

I glared at him, narrowing my eyes to make the point that his comment wasn't appreciated. "Have you always been this much of an ass, or it is just a special occasion and I'm the only one honored enough to see this side of you?"

He looked away, strangely breaking eye contact with me. I was shocked, because I thought the rule of thumb was the loser of an argument was the one that looked away first.

"Show me," he finally said without turning his head back to face me.

I stood up, moved to his good side, and began walking him through the process of how I looked at the data in the file. When I finished, I summed up by stating the two addresses and times of day that I thought held the greatest likelihood of getting them the skip safely.

"I get your conclusions, and it will help the guys," Manny replied when I finished talking, "but there's no way I would have looked at that paper and gotten to the same place."

I hoped that was a compliment, so I shrugged. "I guess having a thought process that no one understands pays off from time to time, because I see things other people miss."

"I think you're right about what they should do. It's just not logical that you're right," he said, like he was trying to figure out how this was possible.

"Oh, I see. Because I'm the one that came up with a solution, it's shocking and doesn't make sense. How can the untrained and impulsive girl be right?" I raised my voice, hating the defensive tone I was taking. "Don't worry. If you don't like it, you never have to turn over any files to me for my help."

"That's not what I said," he challenged, obviously taking issue with my irritation. "I just meant I couldn't follow your thought process when you explained how you got there, not that it was illogical for you to be right."

I would have apologized and offered some excuse about being tired for being so jumpy, but then I heard him mumble, "Defensive much?" as I walked away, and I found my temper exactly where I'd left it.

"I'm going to finish these later," I bit out. "Without an audience."

Realizing I really didn't have anywhere to go, I walked to the living room, just for a change of scenery, and noticed the small box that I knew contained Nagypapa's tools for carving wood. He used to make the most incredible sculptures out of what had once been a plain block of wood. I opened the box and peeked inside, flooded with the memory of how his older, knotty hands would hold these tools and masterfully craft anything he could imagine.

I shut the box and put it back in its place, leaving my hand on top and shutting my eyes. "Little bits," I remembered him saying. "Only take little bits, and it reveals to you like ice melting around a shape underneath."

I remembered thinking at the time that it had to be deeply important because he looked so uncharacteristically serious when he said it, and as much as I loved hearing his advice, I didn't see how it was helping me, so I lifted my hand and stood up to finish my work.

"Melt him in little bits, child," I heard the familiar voice in my head. I did a quick look around and realized that despite the naps I'd taken, I was obviously still so exhausted that my brain wasn't functioning correctly.

I left the living room quickly to avoid my mind manifesting more fictional advice that I needed to ignore. I moved through the den, feeling a little at a loss about what to do now and knowing that when I was like this, I tended to feel stir crazy about being forced to stay inside. I found myself staring at the wood covering the window on the door that led to the back yard, wishing I could at least see outside, even if I wasn't allowed to open the door.

"It would just make it worse," Manny said in a much softer tone than he'd used earlier.

"What?" I was glad for the diversion, even if it did lead to another argument.

"If you could see outside but not go out, it would be worse because you could see exactly what you were missing instead of just imagining it," he pointed out, proving he had pretty good skills in reading situations.

"I know, but I struggle when I'm locked up. Something about knowing I can't go out makes me want it more than I normally would if it wasn't forbidden," I explained, hoping he wouldn't judge me for my honesty.

"Is that why you usually end up ditching your bodyguard detail when you're under lockdown?" he asked.

I couldn't really detect any judgment in his voice, so I turned around to see if there was anything I could read on his face.

Seeing only curiosity, I decided to answer him. "I guess so, although at the time, I always seem to have a reason to go out, and I feel like no one is listening to me and taking my word for it that what I need to do is worth the risk to my life."

He seemed to consider it for a minute before replying, "But did you balance that with the risk it is to the life of the guy Ranger had commanded to keep you locked up?"

"I guess I always figured they could take care of themselves if they managed to follow me, and if I lost them then their life wouldn't be in danger; it would be safer since they weren't with me," I explained my logic. Admittedly, as I said it, I could see the gaping holes in my thought process, but since I'd put it out there, I had to stand by it.

"Right," he replied, letting me know he saw the same problems with my argument. "Except for when they have to face the boss and admit to losing you. Do you know how it feels to be dressed down in front of your coworkers for losing somebody? And then to have to report to the mats for at least half an hour at the crack of dawn to have the shit beaten out of you to add to your humiliation?"

"If they'd work with me, they could have gone with me, and then they wouldn't have to admit to losing me," I countered, proud of myself for finding a problem with his point.

"And then they'd have to admit they defied Ranger's order to keep you locked up, which is even worse than saying you escaped," he replied, getting a little more animated, as though the thought of what he was saying was pissing him off anew.

"You've never lost me. Why are you so irritated?" I wondered.

"Because I've had to work with a temp partner while my usual one spent the day in traction after learning the lesson that being assigned Bombshell duty isn't the privilege it sounds like," he threw back at me.

"Don't call me Bombshell." I sounded like a petulant child who had lost the argument and therefore had to try to change the subject.

"Why not?" he challenged again. "It fits you perfectly, because you tend to storm in and wreak havoc in your path."

"What did I ever do to you?" I blurted out, truly curious.

He let his head hit the mattress behind him, as though my question took all the strength out of his neck. "You wanted to know. You shouldn't ask questions you don't want to hear the answers to."

I ignored his comment, refusing to keep fighting with someone who couldn't get up and walk away. Instead, I moved to top off his meds, including the lower dose pain medication. When I turned back around, he looked a little concerned.

"What?" I asked, thinking I'd done something wrong.

"What's in the needle?" he asked, looking at my hand as though it were a dangerous weapon.

"Same stuff I've been giving you, except the lower dose of the pain reliever," I explained. "Just because I'm pissed off doesn't mean you have to worry that I'm going to hurt you."

Once I had finished with him, I handed him the remote for the television and explained I'd be at the bar working on the rest of the research Tank sent over. "Call me if you need anything."

"I'm sure I'll be fine," he replied flatly, as though he'd lie in that bed in total agony before he'd admit to needing anything from me.

"Suit yourself," I replied just as curtly before stomping out in a less-than-dignified exit.

I opened the laptop again and brought up my email account, too irritated to try doing any work. Les had forwarded me a couple of X-rated jokes, which I laughed at despite myself. I quickly deleted those before moving on to Cal's email.

_Good morning, angel. Just checking in to see how you're doing. Remember last night... You promised not to lie to me anymore when I asked that question. Well, I don't know if you ever technically agreed, but I did insist and you didn't refuse, so your promise was implied. I'll have a sub in hand when I swing by later tonight. Love, Cal_

I still couldn't figure out why Cal was being so kind to me. We'd worked together a few times, and he was neither overly friendly nor closed off. I know he said my willingness to look after Manny was what had won them over, but that seemed a bit of a stretch. Realizing I wasn't alert enough to fully analyze his sudden friendliness, I decided it didn't matter, I was just glad to have somebody being nice to me.

_Hey, Cal. Thanks for your note. I'm hanging in there, but I have to confess that drugging Manny to knock him out so that he can't talk is starting to sound really good about now. Is he always so disagreeable, or is this a special treat just for me? I'm sure it's just because I'm tired, so in light of the circumstances, I'm actually doing fine. Honest. See you tonight (and if you asked Pino's to throw extra cheese on the sub, I wouldn't mind one bit). ~Steph_

I pressed send and worked my way through the rest of the files. Once I'd run out of RangeMan work, I looked around for something else to do. Nothing jumped out at me, so I decided to clean. I had worked my way through the living room, dusting everything I could find, and as I moved across the hall to work in the den, I realized I'd sunk to a new low. Not only was I trapped in a house where I couldn't even look outside, I was now dusting because it sounded like good entertainment.

I heard laughter coming from behind me, and I swung around to see what was so amusing to Manny. He saw me looking at him with what I hoped was my questioning face, and the smile fell from his lips immediately.

"I just thought one of the guys said you were allergic to exercise and domestic stuff, so the idea that you're cleaning to stay busy this early in lockdown means you are going to be looking up exercise regimes soon. The guys will never believe me when I tell them that," he explained.

I would have loved to correct him, but there was a good bit of truth in his words, and I decided the high ground wouldn't kill me just this once. "Don't worry. The day you see me researching exercise methods is the final sign of the apocalypse, so you'll have more on your mind at that point than getting in touch with RangeMan."

"I take it that you're done with your searches," he said, back to friendly Manny, making me think that keeping up with his mood swings was more difficult than Lula with PMS.

"Yeah, so until Bobby or Cal comes back with more, I'm trying to find something to do other than watch more television," I confessed, hoping the conversationalist would stay with me and not snap back to the difficult guy he'd been earlier.

"Did Bobby give you any suggestions of things I need to be doing?" he prompted, giving me the perfect opportunity to actually be helpful.

I gladly dropped the dust rag on an end table and picked up the folder. Bobby had spelled out some stretches Manny should be doing with my help, so I refreshed my memory and then turned to let him know before realizing how rude I was being. I hated it when doctors discussed my care in a way that excluded me and then did whatever they thought was best while leaving me in the dark about what was happening.

I pulled the page of suggestions from Bobby out of the file and held it out to Manny. "There are some exercises here that he suggested. Do you want to read it over to see if it's something you're interested in trying?"

He was obviously surprised by my question, but he covered it quickly and held out his hand for the paper I was offering. It took him a few minutes before he looked up and considered me, as though the answer to some great mystery was stamped on my forehead and would be revealed to him if he glared at it hard enough. "You'll have to help me with counter pressure for some of these."

"Think of it as a kind deed you can do for both us," I began, taking the paper from him and returning it to the folder from Bobby. "You need to keep your strength up, and I need something to do so that I don't have to stoop to cleaning again."

It took us an hour to slowly work through every exercise, and even though I suggested stopping on more than one occasion, Manny insisted on doing them all. By the time we were finished, he looked like shit, and I was exhausted, too. At least I could fix one of those problems. I went back to the table with all the drugs on it and mixed up his cocktail, including pain medication, which I knew he'd complain about, but I was going to insist upon anyway.

"Do I need to ask?" he said, pointing at the syringe when I faced him.

"You can ask, but I'm giving it to you anyway," I warned. "There's nothing in here to make you loopy, but I am giving you pain meds."

"I've got to get off them," he replied, but he made no attempt to keep me from injecting it in his port.

"And you will, but not right after moving that much for the first time," I countered, not wanting him to suffer for all he'd just done.

I turned on the television and found a travel show about Western Europe. It wasn't something I would usually watch, but I found the scenery beautiful and it made a steady kind of background noise, which quickly put Manny to sleep.

Once I was sure he was out, I went back to the kitchen and poked around for something to do. I noticed some boxes of Jell-O on the counter and decided to mix one up. Manny needed to start with fluids, and I knew jello would count. And since it was basically just stirring hot water, I was pretty sure I wouldn't screw it up.

Fortunately, by the time I finished that job and got it in the fridge, my phone rang and Bobby was on the line, warning me that he was outside the door.

"Hey, Steph. How are you holding on?" he asked, watching me carefully to find any clue that what I was saying wasn't the whole truth.

I shrugged. "It depends." Honesty seemed like a good idea at the moment. "Right now, all is well, but it doesn't always stay that way."

He hugged me, obviously satisfied with my frank assessment. "Why don't you go rest for a bit, and I'll check Manny over. I can wake you before I leave, all right?"

I nodded, thinking a nap was exactly what I needed to get control once again, and made my way to the colorful room once again, dropping on the mattress and falling asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

There was no doubt I was dreaming, because I was surrounded by flowers in colors so bright, I was squinting. I ran my hand over the tops of the blossoms as they bent in the wind, and when my hand came into contact with each new type of flora, I heard a voice in my head whisper a word that I assumed was an attribute of that plant. There was a bright red one that said love when I touched it. A yellow one whispered peace, and a strange vining plant suggested it was for happiness. I stood there thinking it was strange that the last two seemed to be backward. If anything, the yellow flower looked happy and the green plant was more peaceful. But when I tested them each a second time, I got the same words in my mind, so I moved on, figuring I didn't have a right to doubt them about their purpose.

As dreams went, it was a very pleasant one, although when I woke up a few hours later, I had a strange need to sneeze. Nagymama's garden used to be much like the one in my dream, and based on the glass bottles of the dried plants I'd discovered, I guessed she must have heard them confessing their purpose as well. While I didn't have the same soft, gentle spirit she'd possessed, I was still happy to think that my dreams were impacted by my memories of her.

"Be patient, child, and the earth will help to heal him, too."

I jumped up from the bed and glanced around, trying to find the source of the voice that had spoken. This was getting out of control. I was getting enough naps to string together into a decent night's sleep, even if it wasn't all at one time. Even though Manny was grumpy, I didn't think I was under enough stress at the moment to blame that on my sanity cracking. Finally, I guessed it was the bright room and that my subconscious was being impacted by the strange colors and it was revolting in some way by making me think I was hearing voices.

Having come up with a justification, I freshened up in the bathroom and pulled out the last clean outfit from my bag, wondering if the washer and dryer here still worked. I looked at the clothes I had been wearing and decided if they had to, they could serve another day, so there was no rush to get all domestic and start doing laundry, too.

Then I set off down the hall to see how Bobby and Manny had done with each other. When I walked in, Bobby was watching a game with his boots up on the end of Manny's bed.

"Hey, Steph," he greeted me loudly when I entered his field of vision.

I put my finger to my lips in a shushing motion, and Bobby smiled and laughed.

"No need to be quiet; he's out of it."

"Yeah, but he'll wake up if we're too noisy, and if he doesn't get enough sleep, he'll be grumpy," I warned.

"He's not waking up because I knocked his ass out," Bobby explained.

"You hit him?" I gawked, understanding the desire to hit his smart mouth, but shocked that the man who was supposed to be making Manny better had beaten him up.

That only made Bobby laugh harder. "No, Steph, even though he deserved it, I didn't hit him. I did, however, use meds to force him to sleep. He was irritating the hell out of me, and since I could tell from your notes that you hadn't done it, I figured it wouldn't hurt just this once."

"You drugged him?" I realized.

"Yes, I did," Bobby admitted, not looking the least bit guilty. If anything, he looked pleased about it. "And if he can't control his damn mouth, I'll do it again, too."

I was pretty sure Bobby was joking. That was all it took to shatter my control, and I began laughing uncontrollably. Bobby jumped up and pulled me to his chest, recognizing that while I might be laughing, there was a whole whirlwind of emotions here that wouldn't really be considered humorous.

"I'm so sorry you are having to do this," he whispered when I started to calm down. "Just say the word, and I'll pull you out and have someone else assigned here. There's no reason for you to have to suffer with his attitude. I knew he was a terrible patient, but I've never seen him this bad."

I shook my head no, too stubborn to admit defeat. This might be hard, but it wasn't in my personality to give up on somebody when they needed me, and even if he wouldn't admit it, Manny needed somebody. Based on his strange, rapidly-shifting attitude, I figured he'd fare better with me than anyone else.

"I had a feeling you'd say that, but just remember that my offer stands at anytime," he reminded me, before kissing my hair and stepping back to give us both a little room.

We went through some more changes to Manny's treatment, including the need for him to try some liquids on a regular basis. I told him about the jello and was rewarded with a big smile for my forward thinking.

After he'd given me my orders for the next day, he announced it was time for him to head out, promising to return the next night and reminding me he was only a phone call away if I had any questions.

When I opened the front door to let Bobby go, Cal was standing there, holding a bag from Pino's and a stack of files from RangeMan. He walked right in, placed a kiss on my cheek, and nodded to Bobby before making himself at home and moving into the kitchen.

After saying goodnight to Bobby and resetting the alarm, I turned around and touched my cheek where they'd both kissed me. I might be stuck here with a grumpy man, but the guys that were checking up on me were being unbelievably friendly. They'd never been this touchy-feely with me before, and after thinking about it for half a second, I realized I really liked it.

Smiling when I remembered how Nagymama used to talk about balance in life, I realized the newfound affection from the guys was making up for the difficult part of trying to care for Manny. And as the scent of marinara and cheese hit my nose, I realized it was a more than fair trade.


	7. Coming Clean

_All the characters alive in this story are from JE. The deceased ones are from my crazy mind._

_Jenny (JenRar) thanks so much for all you've done as the beta on this story. _

**Chapter 7 – Coming Clean**

I moved to the kitchen, where Cal was unwrapping two meatball subs with a third still in the red and white checkered paper that was Pino's trademark wrapping.

"When all this is over, I think I'd follow you anywhere," I said, drawing in a deep breath of the wonderful smell of my favorite food.

Cal laughed. "So I can forget the flowers and poems. All it takes to win you over is a little sauce and cheese?"

Pinching a glob of melted cheese between my fingers, I pulled it to my mouth and shut my eyes as the flavor hit my tongue. When I opened my eyes, Cal wasn't bothering to hide the fact that he was staring at me.

I glanced down at the sub and back up to him before committing myself. "Yeah, if you could keep me well fed, that's all it would take." We both laughed before I added, "I sound so easy, don't I?"

"Nah, just clear in your expectations, which is refreshing, really," Cal assured me.

We joked during the time it took us to each finish our subs. He told me about picking up the skip I'd given him intel on, and then commented that he had a new stack of questions for me to research. I followed his gaze to the stack in question and saw that it was twice as big as the one from last night.

"You all realize there are some things I have to do for Manny, right?"

As the mention of his name, Cal's face went from smiling and playful to his version of a blank face.

"Ah, damn it, Cal, don't shut down on me now. We were having so much fun," I pleaded.

He looked confused, so I explained, "I finally felt like I was having a conversation, friend to friend, not bodyguard to bodyguardee. And now you've done that blank face thing where you pretend to have no emotions, and I'm left wondering what I've done wrong."

"Bodyguardee?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as though questioning if that was even a word.

I decided to smack him on his arm for that being the only thing he could comment on after what I'd just said to him. Of course my attempt at inflicting bodily harm on him destroyed his blank face and earned me a smile instead.

"You think of me as a friend?" he asked, still smiling, but his eyes held something else that was harder to define – hope or vulnerability perhaps.

"I do," my answer came out quickly. "Of course I do, but I know you guys see me as a work project more than a friend, and I understand that. You usually end up having to do extra stuff because of me. But since I've been here, you haven't treated me like the girl you have to keep an eye on. You've joked with me and made me feel like I was a part of something, so yeah, I'd call that friendship – or at least the start of one."

"Friends," Cal repeated, as though trying out the word to see if it fit.

While he was mulling it over, I started to worry that maybe he was thinking we could be something more than friends, and I started to panic. He was a great guy, definitely great to look at and hang out with, but I couldn't exactly see him as boyfriend material. He struck me more as a puppy that could be ferocious if pushed, but other than that, he was just a soft thing that I had the urge to play with and pet, not link with for life.

Cal burst out laughing, and I had no idea what set him off, so I waited for an explanation. Once he'd pulled himself together, he explained, "I think you were either thinking out loud and I only caught half of your thoughts, or you are proposing some kind of friends with benefits arrangement that will including heavy petting, but no chance of marriage."

My go-to reaction of blushing madly and my brain shutting down normal speech to explain my most recent motor mouth moment gave Cal a chance to rescue me.

"No worries, angel. You aren't exactly my type for a hook up." He pointed to his forehead as evidence. "Somehow, I don't see you comfortable in the bars I frequent when I'm looking for fun."

Before I could take offense at him assuming to know me, he added, "Besides, I can't remember the last time somebody thought me worthy enough to want to be a friend to me. I mean, I get plenty of women who think I'm good enough for a one night stand and guys who are willing to work with me, but to put a label on me like that is kind of unusual. I don't think I'd want to screw it up by trying to romance you outside of your previous demand for subs."

I thought about what he was saying. "You're friends with the guys..."

His expression appeared unconvinced. "I've served with a lot of them, so I know some of their past, and we've shared a bunch of hellish experiences. And since we're in the same business, it's easy to hang out for a game or go out drinking together, so I guess in that way, we're friends. But I was thinking about the kind of friend that would stay up talking and trust you enough to tell you something they wouldn't share with anybody else. That's kind of rare for guys, even at RangeMan."

When he put it like that, I guessed I really didn't see the guys sitting around drinking beer and sharing their deepest secrets.

"I don't really have anything that's that private to share, though," I warned him. "My life is pretty much an open book, even if I didn't want it to be."

"So if I asked you about Ranger, for example, you'd tell me what the deal was there?" he pushed.

"If I knew, I'd gladly explain it," I replied, wishing it wasn't so difficult to admit that. "We're – hell, I don't know what we are. We're friends, for sure, at least on my part. He's always believed in me and done everything in his power to help me when I've needed it, even when I didn't ask."

"Yeah, but I've been around when he's pulled you behind the bonds office, and when you came back to the front, you looked like you'd been royally kissed. So, there's more to it than just backup when you need it," he countered.

"Oh, there's chemistry – loads and loads of that. But Ranger says he can't have a relationship because his life is too risky. And I say I can't have regular sex with a guy if there can't be some form of commitment, so we're at an impasse of sorts." That sounded reasonable to me.

"An impasse?" Cal repeated.

I nodded, wondering what was wrong with that description.

"So you two have never had sex, then," Cal wondered, as though he couldn't believe what I was saying.

I couldn't figure out how to answer that without being so embarrassed that I couldn't talk or without lying. I guess my expression gave him an answer.

"Then if you've had sex and Ranger's still around, you guys have a relationship; it's just not the kind that leads to the altar."

"No, it's the kind that doesn't lead anywhere. He can offer me the protection of RangeMan and mind-blowing sex, but he can't offer me anything about his past or his present outside of what I already know. He can't have a relationship because it would be too dangerous for me – and I guess for him, too," I offered, hoping I wasn't putting words in Ranger's mouth that he would disagree with.

"How long ago did he give you the no relationship speech?" Cal wondered.

I had to think about it, but then I remembered it easily. "The day after Morelli and I finally came to terms with the fact that we absolutely should never date again."

"I'm sorry, but how did that conversation trigger Ranger giving you his take on dating?" He wasn't being nosey; he was genuinely confused.

"I went to his apartment for dinner that night and told him about the epiphany Joe and I had come to together. Ranger and I toasted me finally getting my romantic life straight. One toast led to another, one comment led to another, and the next thing I know, I'm being reminded about the thread count of his sheets up close and personal." I couldn't stop the smile from coming over my face at that memory. Ranger was really good at celebrating.

"The next morning when he came back after his work out, I was getting dressed, and he told me had to go out of town for a while, so I told him to be careful and to call me when he got back in town. His face got all serious, and then he kissed me before reminding me that as much as he might wish it were different, all he could offer me was what we'd just shared. He couldn't do real intimacy, and if I needed a night of sex, he hoped I'd give him a call, but if I needed more than that, he hoped I'd move on past Morelli and find someone who could offer me that, too," I finished the memory, glad to see that it didn't sting as much to say it as it had at the time.

"What an ass," Cal responded, obviously not seeing it in the same light I did.

Honestly, Ranger had never led me on, and he'd never lied to me. If I'd entertained hope of him changing his mind, I can honestly say he didn't give me any reason to do so.

"Now wait. You can't judge Ranger for repeating what he'd always told me in that setting," I reminded him.

"Was that the only time you two had been together?" Cal asked, pushing me for more details than I wanted to give. I could see that he wasn't as intent on getting the particulars about our night together as he was trying to figure out what Ranger was up to.

"No, the first time, it was because I lost a bet. The next morning, he reminded me about his stance on relationships and suggested I reconcile with Morelli," I began, figuring the only way to make Cal drop this was to answer the questions so he'd stop asking and see what I was saying was true.

Cal put a hand up, and the muscles on the side of his jaw seemed to be working like he was trying to contain some murderous roar. "You lost a bet and had to sleep with him?"

"Yeah, but it wasn't like it sounds." I rolled my eyes, seeing how that sentence would have put Ranger in a horrible light. "We'd been dancing around each other for a while, Joe and I were on an off stage again, and we both needed a reason to have sex. The bet was really just giving us both an excuse to act on what we wanted to do."

"And was him pushing you back to the cop part of the bet, too?" Cal asked, not letting up at all.

"No..."

It had stung at the time. Even though I found Ranger so intense I wasn't sure I could handle more of him, there was still a little voice in the back of my head that wondered if he was disappointed in our shared night so he was trying to ensure it didn't happen anymore. Of course, the chemistry between us didn't diminish, so I used that as proof that the night must have been fun for him, too. Then when Bella put the damn Vordo curse on me, he'd been more than willing to help me out.

"What in the hell are you thinking about?" Cal interrupted my mental ramblings. "One minute, you looked upset, then you looked like you were going to finish off your sub and the extra one I got for me, and now you look pissed off."

I was shocked at how spot on he'd been in tracking my responses, so I backed up and explained more about my past with Ranger, finishing with our time together in Hawaii, my discussion with Morelli after the fact that led to us finally calling it quits for good, and the celebration I'd begun this whole inappropriate sharing episode with.

"Wow... Now I see why you usually just brush people off by saying it's complicated," Cal surmised.

"Yeah, that doesn't really come close, does it?" I repeated, glad to see Cal calming down after getting the whole picture.

By the time we finished picking my love life apart, we were both done with our subs and I was looking at the unwrapped one between us, wondering if there was a ladylike way to ask for part of it. There was no way I could finish another sub, but a few more bites might hit the spot perfectly.

Cal stood up and went to a block of wood holding Nagymama's knives, selecting one and testing it on his finger before coming over and setting it exactly in the middle of the sandwich I'd been coveting. "How much do you want?" he asked with a smile, letting me know he was more than willing to share.

I marked a different place, and he copied my movement with the knife before sawing through the paper and the sub to have two pieces. Then he took the smaller piece and began unwrapping it.

"Hey, that was mine," I complained.

He looked confused and then grinned at me. "I thought you wanted the bigger piece."

I snatched the small one he'd already opened and pushed the larger portion in front of him. "I have a great metabolism, but my stomach is still only so big."

We kept talking for the next hour, finishing dinner together and having a great time. The alarm on his watch went off, interrupting us.

He shut it off and looked slightly sheepish while confessing, "I'm sorry, Steph. I was supposed to come and watch Manny so you could get a break, but I've kept you tied up while he was sleeping so you couldn't do anything else. Tomorrow night, I'll be sure you get a break, all right?"

"Tomorrow night, you're going to put your money where your mouth is and play cards with me so I can see if your big words about being the reigning RangeMan poker champion is just all hype," I replied, trying to let him know I didn't care about having time by myself. Having somebody to talk to was a much bigger treat in my eyes.

"I'll pick up a new deck of cards, just so I know you haven't marked a set here," he replied, obviously loving the idea of a challenge.

I walked him to the door and waited for him to call the control room before he turned back and kissed me on my forehead. "Have a good night, angel. I'll see you tomorrow."

I locked up behind him and thought back over the conversation we'd shared over the last few hours, amazed at how open and generous he had been with his answers to everything I'd asked of him. He might think he was rusty at the whole making true friends business, but it seemed pretty easy to me.

I heard the television come on in the den, so I moved in there to check on Manny again. He glared at me when I walked in, causing me ask if everything was all right.

"You drugged me."

"Oh no, I didn't," I quickly defended myself.

"So I fell asleep and woke up with a screaming headache for no reason?" he replied, with his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Something about his tone pissed me off, and then I got doubly mad because he was ruining the good time I'd just had with Cal. "Look, I was taking a nap down the hall, and Bobby was here to check on you. When I woke up and came down to see how you were, Bobby had knocked you out because, according to him, you were being a huge pain in the ass, which I'm finding pretty easy to believe at the moment. After Bobby left, Cal came over, and I've been in the kitchen with him until now."

"Trust me, I'm completely aware of the time you just spent with Cal," Manny pushed back. "I didn't realize the guy was such a damn chick."

I glared back at the man in front of me that I was supposed to be caring for. "In order to keep you from suffering an avoidable injury, I'd suggest you not talk about Cal anymore."

Manny raised an eyebrow in question, pissing me off even more than if he'd responded with words.

"Think what you want. I didn't knock you out, but I can certainly see why the idea was so appealing that Bobby couldn't resist," I bit back.

He looked at the television, but the expression on his face made me think he wasn't really watching it. "All right," he replied in a softer tone. "Now that you've jogged my memory, I think I remember Bobby giving me something and saying it was to help him not to kill me."

"What did you say to set him off?" I couldn't stop myself from asking. "I mean, Bobby's not usually so harsh when people are injured."

His good shoulder shrugged, and he looked down at his leg in a cast to reply, "I think I took too many blows at what RangeMan holds most dear and he either had to knock me out with drugs or his fist. Of the two options, I guess he picked the better one for a medic."

"Ah," I replied, without really understanding what in the hell he was talking about. I decided to try changing the subject and asked if he needed anything.

He looked down, and in my gut, I knew there was something he wanted but for whatever reason, he was reluctant to ask for it.

Then I remembered the jello and decided to help him out. "There's jello in the fridge, and I can bring you some of that along with some water to see how you feel getting some fluids like that."

"What kind?" he asked, sounding like the nicer version of the man that I liked talking to.

"Watermelon," I answered, hoping that was all right, because I really didn't have hours to wait for another kind to set up.

"Okay," he replied, looking back at the television, as though looking me in the eye right now would make accepting my help that much harder.

I pulled everything together and moved the bed back up to more of a seated position so he could handle the liquid easier. Using a tray on wheels that had been at the side of the room, I put it on top and scooted it over to hover just above his lap, easily within reach.

"Thank you," he replied once I'd turned away and was no longer facing him. "I know I'm not…easy."

"I can handle not easy," I informed him, before deciding he needed to get a few things straight if we were going to survive this house arrest. "But being an ass is something entirely different."

It almost looked like he wanted to smile, but he held himself back to say, "Noted," instead.

"I'll be in the kitchen working through the pile of searches Cal just delivered. Call me if you need anything," I announced.

"The Rangers game will be on in ten minutes," he reminded me when I was about to exit the room. "If you want to work in here, I'll mute the television, and then you can still see some of the game."

I told myself that he was offering to make up for how terribly he'd been treating me and to refuse would be closing the door on his attempt at civility so I thanked him and grabbed what I'd need to do the work in the den instead. Armed with the stack of searches, my laptop, and a highlighter, I sat cross-legged in the easy chair and began pulling up missing pieces of information to fill in the gaps.

It took a couple of hours, but before the game was over, I had finished the whole stack of work. It was a nice feeling to know that I was done, but at the same time, I knew I wouldn't get any more until the next evening, so I wasn't sure what I could do to keep from going crazy.

"You're finished with all of those?" Manny asked, unable to believe that was possible.

"Yeah, I tried to drag it out, but it didn't take long to get everything they'd asked for," I explained.

Manny shut his eyes. I realized we were working on six hours since he'd gotten any meds and mentally kicked my own ass for ignoring his obvious discomfort for so long.

"Ah shit, I'm sorry, Manny. I didn't check the clock, and with Bobby and then Cal here, I lost track of time," I rambled as I worked to get his meds dosed out.

"Don't knock me out," he stated, but his voice sounded strained, as though he were asking, despite the lack of a question.

"I said I wouldn't," I reminded him, injecting the meds he should have had two hours ago. "If you need it, say the word, but otherwise, I'm just giving you the three things Bobby laid out."

Manny nodded and shut his eyes tightly. I knew he was hurting somewhere, but his damn pride was keeping him from saying anything about it.

"What hurts?" I asked, figuring I should probably begin to get a baseline of what was normal so I could bring up anything unusual when Bobby was around.

He shook his head, like he was trying to deny that he was in pain, but when his good hand moved across his abdomen in the direction of his injured leg, he'd given up his secret. Obviously the pressure on the broken ribs wasn't helpful, because he had to pull his hand away to keep from compressing the tissue around that injury any more.

I moved over and pulled the sheet back on the leg I thought was giving him trouble, being careful to not pull it back from his groin and get a view that he probably wouldn't appreciate.

"What are you doing?" he asked, but the fact that he was gritting his teeth kept me from worrying about him getting too upset with me.

"I'm looking to see if anything is out of the ordinary with your leg," I responded, trying to sound a lot more confident than I really felt. "Where does it hurt?" I asked, putting my hand on the top of his cast where the skin was visible.

"Up a little and more to the outside," he described, surprising me that he was attempting to answer my question.

I moved my fingers in response to his direction, and when I landed on the right spot, he made a sound to let me know I'd guessed correctly. Then I began to tenderly massage the area under my fingers, glad to feel the skin was cool to the touch but tight in the muscle, like he had a cramp of some sort. I could hear him drawing in deep breaths and releasing them slowly while I kept kneading the spasm away.

Finally, he broke the silence and said, "I think you've got it." He stopped to clear his voice before adding, "Thanks."

"Are you sleepy?" I asked, wondering if he was as tired of resting as I would be in his position.

"Not one damn bit," he replied.

I knew my face was totally red from what I was about to say, but it had been bothering me for the last day, and I felt like I simply had to say something. "You're stuck in that bed until Bobby says you can start trying to move out of it, but it's been a couple of days since you've had a bath, so do you want to try that now?"

Manny looked down and then back up at me to ask, "Who gave me my last bath? A couple of days ago, we were here, not the hospital in New York, right?"

"Yes," I replied, putting away everything I'd worked on earlier as a distraction to keep from having to look him in the eye as I confessed. "And I was the one that did it."

"Okay," he replied, I assumed giving me permission to move forward with a bath. "I guess you know what you're doing, then."

"It's a bath, Manny. We aren't talking rocket science here," I replied, not really as bitter as the sentence may have sounded. "Plus, most of the stitches can get wet now, which will make it much easier."

He watched me with interest as I brought in a basin of water with a washcloth on top. I'd already added the wash and the healing herbs from Nagymama. I couldn't explain it, but when I was drawing the bath water, I felt like I really needed to add the gift of my great-grandmother, as well. His brow furrowed, but he said nothing until I laid a towel over his lap and then dipped the cloth in the water and twisted it to wring out the excess water.

"What do I need to do?" he asked, sounding strangely nervous.

"You can let me know if I hurt you or if anything seems unusually tender," I suggested, and then I set about cleaning him as gently as possible. It took a while because I felt like with him awake and watching the progress, I needed to do a better job than the first bath I'd given him.

Once I'd finished his torso, including as much of his back as I could reach by having him sit up more than he had before, I left to get some fresh water.

When I came back in, I left the towel right where it was to keep the sheet in place over his crotch and then untucked the sheet from the bottom of the bed and pulled it up to reveal his legs. I began with the ankle and toes, foot and ankle peeping out from his cast, before moving over to his good leg.

"What are you cleaning me with?" he asked as I worked my way up his right leg.

"It's some special bodywash Bobby left," I answered, not looking up.

I could hear him inhaling slowly before he said, "It smells like trees."

I decided now was not the time to tell him about the twenty-year-old herbs I'd put in his bath water and just agreed with his general comment while getting his leg shiny clean. Honestly, it wasn't that dirty, but I was stalling about what to do for the area still hidden under the sheet and towel. I put the washcloth back in the basin and then tucked the sheet back in at the bottom.

I'd put it off as long as I reasonably could, so I drew on my courage and said, "All right, I can finish this up, and we can just admit that it will be a little on the awkward side, or you can take the washcloth and get the parts I've missed."

He held his hand out without hesitation, and I was relieved to know I didn't have to figure out how to get him clean while attempting to look uninterested in what my hand was touching. He took the cloth, and I turned around, pretending to tidy up the laptop and files I'd already moved out of the way.

"All right," he said to let me know he was finished.

I picked up the basin and held it out for him to drop the cloth in instead of me taking it from him and then having to act like I wasn't thinking about where that cloth had just been while he was watching me.

I was two steps from the hall to go through to rinse everything out when he said, "Thanks for the bath."

"You're welcome," I replied simply, trying to matching his grateful tone.

I finished cleaning everything in the bathroom and then stood there looking at myself in the mirror, trying to figure out what I should next. I didn't want to risk saying something to piss him off and get the grumpy version of Manny again, but I didn't want to avoid him, either.

Before I could make a decision, I felt a slightly cool sensation come over me, and a voice in my ear encouraged, "Be strong child, and your strength will help him find his."

I stood up immediately, not sure if I wanted to know where that thought had come from. But when I stood up, I found that my back was a little straighter and I wasn't quite as nervous about going back out to face him.


	8. Just When Things Were Going so Well

_JE created the characters below._

_Jenny (JenRar) your work as the beta on this story is incredible. Thank you for giving so generously of your time and know-how to make this story stronger._

**Chapter 8 – Just When Things Were Going so Well**

After accepting the fact that men are unable to leave a television on the same channel for more than ten minutes, I picked up the laptop and began to look up random things online. The first thirty minutes were interesting, as I learned that the chances of you dying on the way to buy a lottery ticket are greater than you actually winning the lottery, and that the can opener wasn't invented until forty-eight years after the can was. But after that, the facts went from interesting to downright weird, so I had to stop.

I glanced over to Manny and saw that while his face was aimed at the television, he still didn't look like he was watching it. "Is there anything you'd like to know?" I blurted out.

He looked at me as though he didn't understand my question, so I gave him some random fact examples, and he nearly smiled before saying, "You're bored out of your mind, aren't you?"

There was no point in lying to him, so I nodded.

"Do you have all the RangeMan search programs on that laptop?" he asked, surprising me that he wasn't just shooting down my question.

"Yeah, they run a little slower than they do in the office, but I have access to all the information," I replied, pulling up the general search program I always started with and logging in just in case he had something I could do.

"How much can you find out about Mateo Hernandez?" Manny asked, narrowing his eyes when he said the name.

"There are over eleven hundred people currently alive with that name in the world. Is there anything else you can give me to narrow it down a little?" I asked, hopeful. I could certainly go through every one of these, but I had a feeling I'd get a quarter of the way through and start begging for a break so I could go back to reading random facts.

"He was born in Colombia and is the only son of Julio Hernandez," Manny added, narrowing the field down to a single candidate.

"Got him," I mumbled under my breath. "How much do you want on him?" I asked so I'd know how specific to get.

"Everything there is," Manny said, shifting a little in the bed.

I started the standard scan, knowing it would take a little while to produce anything. "It's running," I told him so he'd know I was working on it. "Can you tell me what I'm looking for?"

This time, he hesitated, as though he wasn't entirely sure if he wanted to give me any more details. He must have decided in my favor, because he confessed, "I think he's the man who tried to kill me. I need to know everything there is to know about him so that when I can safely get out of here, I can go hunting."

Ah, I recognized the expression on his face now as one I'd seen a few times before. The first time I saw it was on Ranger's face after he saw what Abruzzi had done to me. The next time, Tank's face had had that look before he disappeared for an hour and then the skip that had nearly raped me when a distraction went terribly wrong had been picked up. Strangely that skip never made it to jail, as he somehow outsmarted the guys who had been hauling him in, and then he'd turned up in his apartment a couple of days later after committing suicide with a single gunshot to the head. I had a feeling Manny was saying that when he was able to exact his revenge, Mr. Hernandez would suffer a sudden onset of severe depression before taking his own life, as well.

I watched the screen flicker and then the basic data sheet come up. Normally, I would print this off, but it would be about seven pages long and the portable printer I had was so slow. "Do you want me to use the little printer on this, or should I just read it off to you?"

He turned off the television, moved his bed back slightly, and then shut his eyes before saying, "Read everything to me."

I began at the top with his date of birth and demographic information. I figured this was all stuff Manny already knew, but he didn't interrupt. I read about Mateo's school performance, that he was lackluster at best and dropped out after only one year of higher education in order to join his father in their family export business. Officially, they exported textiles, but the government seemed to suspect them of being a major drug cartel, so my guess was that was what they really shipped out of Colombia.

Near the end, I read about Mateo's personal life, which included a wife named Benita and twin daughters, Maria and Anita.

"When were they born?" Manny asked, speaking for the first time since I started talking.

It took a little more digging to produce a birth date of April first, 2008. "So they're four," I added, doing the mental math for him.

"What else?" Manny asked, obviously interested in hearing more.

"That's the end of the standard search, but I can pull up some other information in the different databases," I offered.

He nodded and then turned his head in the direction of the windows. They were covered, so there was nothing to see, but I figured he wasn't really looking anyway; he was turning away so his mind could mull over everything I'd just shared with him.

I got the news scan running for articles over the last three years and a secure scan of data collected on him by the various branches of the US government. I wasn't entirely sure about the legality of the last one, but Ranger had given me the ability to use it, so I decided to go with it.

While those were searching, I noticed he was looking around the room. When he asked, "Where the hell are we?" I couldn't help but smile.

"What?" I pushed a little, unable to stop myself. "You don't like the décor of the safe house?"

His confusion grew at my response. "I just don't remember RangeMan owning a sixties retro house."

I looked around at the brown shag carpet, the burgundy, green, and gray-striped velour sofa, and the lamps with the little fringe of orange balls hanging around the shade and had to agree that this looked like a bad stereotype of a historic sixties dwelling.

"Actually, RangeMan doesn't own this place," I explained.

"Then where are we?" He wasn't irritated, but he was curious.

"We're about five miles outside of Trenton in a house that is owned by my Grandma Mazur. This was the home her parents lived in," I told him.

Manny looked around quickly once more before asking, "Your grandmother isn't here, is she?"

That made me laugh. "No, you're safe."

His head fell against the bed once more. "Good, because we were going to need to discuss me wearing pants if I had to be exposed to her."

"Trust me, if Grandma Mazur thought you could be exposed in front of her, something as insignificant as a pair of pants wouldn't really keep her from seeing what she wanted to see," I warned him, admiring her spunk even if I was occasionally mortified by her behavior in certain settings.

"Why hasn't the place been…updated?" he asked gently, obviously not wanting to insult me by stating the obvious that this place could be a set for a documentary on the swinging sixties if it was toned down a little first.

"They both passed away about three months apart in the seventies when they were in their nineties. I guess they redecorated when this was all in style and then were too old to modernize any more after that," I explained, before deciding to give him the full scoop, too. "Of course, they were a little on the _out there_ edge of things, so for all I know, they may have intentionally done this because they had a thing for color."

"What do you mean _a little on the out there edge_?" Manny asked, giving us our first pleasant full-length conversation since we'd been forced together.

"My Grandpa Mazur called them gypsies. They immigrated to America from Hungary when they were only seventeen and somehow made a life for themselves that centered around this house and the parcel of land it's on. Being here had a strange effect on people; they tended to be more relaxed and happier, but that could be because Nagypapa was a jokester and Nagymama was the world's best cook. They spent loads of time outside in their garden, which was huge and full of food and flowers." I stopped abruptly when I felt like I was rambling, unsure if Manny really wanted to know all of that.

"What did you call them?" he shocked me by following up.

"It's the Hungarian names for Grandma and Grandpa," I explained, realizing they were somewhat strange titles if you weren't used to hearing them.

"Do you speak Hungarian?" he questioned.

"No...I know a few phrases, but they didn't really try to teach me. I asked why that was once, and they said they used Hungarian to say the things little ears didn't need to hear," I told him, sharing a memory I hadn't thought of in years.

"So nobody has lived here in over twenty years?" Manny looked around, trying to fully understand what I was telling him.

"Nope. Grandma Mazur and my mother come over a couple of times a year and check on the house and clean it, but they won't let anyone stay, and Grandma Mazur refuses to sell the house or land. She said her parents would haunt her if she tried it. Apparently they wanted one of their grandchildren to live here, but they were very particular about the circumstances under which that should happen," I said, knowing I was being a little vague.

I should have known he wouldn't leave it there. "What circumstances?"

It was tempting to tell him it was none of his business, but I didn't want to shut down the conversation just because it was getting personal. "According to Grandma Mazur, the people that live here need to be madly in love with each other, or the mojo in the house from my great-grandparents will make them go crazy."

"Mojo?" he echoed.

"Gypsies, remember?" I teased as an explanation.

"So they did some kind of magic?" He actually seemed interested.

I shrugged, not really knowing the answer. "Nagymama was really earthy; she did stuff with lots of herbs and flowers. And Nagypapa had a way with people that was calming. He could read somebody the first time he met them, sizing them up about what they needed so they would trust him and relax, knowing he was sincere in wanting to help them. I don't think you could call that magic, but it was magical to be around them, if that makes sense."

"I get the difference. It sounds like you share a lot with him," Manny offered, making that probably the first nice thing he'd said since he woke up here.

I blinked at him, unable to formulate something to say in return. Luckily, Manny yawned, which gave me the excuse of telling him he should rest. He didn't argue, so I took the chance to shut the lights out, turn off the television, and pick up the laptop to make my escape into the kitchen.

The programs I'd started running when we began talking had finished, so I hooked up the printer and started running pages through, despite its slow speed, so Manny would have something to read when he woke up. As it came off, I read through everything, highlighting what I considered to be important information.

By the time I'd gone through fifty pieces of paper, I'd come to the conclusion that Mateo Hernandez was a bad man. While the Colombian press seemed to think of him as a humanitarian of the highest caliber, surrounding counties had blocked him from crossing their boarders, claiming he was responsible for murders, drug trafficking, and many other atrocities to women and children. Additionally, it seemed there had been an unexplainable amount of explosions surrounding him when he traveled, often resulting in the death of one or more "innocent" people. The American government had him on a watch list as being suspected of horrible crimes. They had been unable to prove anything; and his philanthropic efforts gave him a different sort of reputation so he was not specifically barred from entering this country.

According to what I could piece together from newspaper articles and other websites, he was in America now, which would give him opportunity to have crossed paths with Manny. Although, I still couldn't see a connection that would explain why he was so convinced that this was the guy that tried to kill him.

I figured Manny would be recovering from his injuries for a couple of months at a bare minimum, so I projected Hernandez's travel calendar as best I could through that time so he'd see there would be multiple opportunities to contact him once he was up for it. Hernandez didn't seem like the kind of guy you wanted to cross unless you were at a hundred percent.

Once I was done gathering everything I thought possible, I shut down the computer and stretched. I was exhausted, too, so I decided to take my own advice and get some rest. Before I went to sleep, I checked the time and topped off Manny's meds, deciding that beginning tomorrow, we'd start stretching the wait time between doses out a little more. For now, though, I wanted him to rest well, and after moving around for his bath, I didn't want him to be uncomfortable.

With that done, I collapsed on the sofa and curled up on my side with my head on one of the throw pillows. I couldn't get comfortable; something hard was poking my hip, so I got up and moved the cushions around to discover a Glock had been wedged between them in the center of the sofa. I wondered how many other guns were hidden in the house. Of course RangeMan would consider strategically placing guns to be vital in cleaning and prepping a house for occupancy, so I shouldn't have been shocked. I moved the gun to the coffee table, where all the medical supplies were spread out to hide it. My first reaction had been to hide it in the cookie jar in the kitchen, but I figured it might be a good idea to offer it to Manny instead. I knew most of the guys felt naked without a gun, so he might be much more comfortable if he had a weapon somewhere in his bed. I put it inside the file I'd been using to track all the medication doses and times, figuring that way I couldn't forget to offer it to him, and then climbed back onto the couch, desperate for some rest.

Most likely, I fell asleep the second my head hit the pillow, as it seemed like I went from dragging to dreaming almost immediately. I was walking out the back door of this house and into the garden in the back yard that looked exactly as it had when Nagymama had worked it when I was little. In the center was a picnic table where she and Nagypapa were seated on one side talking to Manny.

They smiled at me as I approached, but Manny didn't seem to acknowledge my presence.

"He can't see you, child. You can sit down," Nagymama told me as I drew closer.

I sat on the same side as Manny and watched as my great-grandfather spoke to him about not letting the past take away his future. Manny was listening, but I could tell he wasn't changing his mind. He wasn't arguing, but something in him couldn't let go of a piece of his past.

Nagypapa told him, "Do you think she would want this? Would she want you to give your life, too, even though hers is already gone?"

Manny looked away, out at the edge of the garden, before saying, "She wouldn't want her death to go unavenged."

"No, son," Nagypapa corrected him. "She wouldn't want her death to be for nothing. But the dead no longer need vengeance. What good is that to us now?"

There was no response this time, as the truth of what had been said soaked in.

"If you sacrifice your own life, it dishonors her gift to you. Would she want that?"

It took a long time before Manny softly responded, "No."

"Then why do you poison yourself with these plans? You lie there planning ways to hate, planning death. Why aren't you living?" Nagypapa pushed.

"It's not that easy," Manny attempted to argue, before he was cut off once more.

"Yes, it is," Nagypapa corrected. "You make it hard, but you can stop that, yes?"

It seemed that Manny and Nagypapa faded off so that I was left alone sitting opposite Nagymama at the table. "What was he talking about?"

She smiled at me and wagged her finger. "Always a curious child. Only he can share his secret, but you can help him to want to."

"How?" I pleaded. "Until tonight, he didn't even want to talk to me, much less accept my help."

"Ah, my child, you can't give up so easily," she instructed.

"But what else can I do?" I wondered, completely at a loss.

"Sometimes it isn't about doing new things, but continuing to do the same things so that he can learn to depend on them," she advised. "You aren't the only one who has past reasons not to trust."

Before I could ask what that was supposed to mean, she vanished and I was left sitting in her garden by myself. I walked around for awhile, wishing someone else was here to talk to, but in the end, I realized they'd given me all they could, so I was on my own for awhile. I sat back at the table and put my head on my arms, and as I felt myself go to sleep in my dream, the voice of my great-grandmother filled my ears to say, "Just because you don't see us doesn't mean you are alone."

That caused me to awaken with a jolt, only to find myself sitting up on the sofa where I'd gone to sleep. Manny was looking at me as though I were some kind of wild animal, so I took a few deep breaths, reminding myself that it was just a dream. I was not living or dreaming in the twilight zone.

"It was just a strange dream. I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's okay," he replied calmly. "I had a weird one, too."

We looked at each other for a few minutes, and then I stood up, heading to the kitchen. "I'm making some coffee. I know you don't want any, but can I bring you anything else?"

He didn't respond right away, so I kept walking.

After a moment, he called out, "Is there anymore jello?"

I wasn't sure anybody would believe me, but I finally understood why my mom spent so much time in the kitchen. It was a nice feeling, especially if you didn't know what else to do, to be able to give someone something you made for them to eat. Of course, my expertise ended with boiling water, so jello was about the extent of what I could offer, but he didn't have to realize that.

I whipped up a new box, picking the cherry flavor this time since it was dark enough that it was as close as I could get to black, which the guys at RangeMan seemed to be so fond of. Once it was in the fridge, I pulled out the rest of the watermelon and scooped it into a dessert dish. It was a white, frosted glass dish that was rounded, small, and stood on a stem. I used to love eating out of these dishes because it made the meal seem that much fancier.

The coffee maker began to hiss and gurgle, announcing the end of the brewing cycle, so I fixed myself a tall mug and grabbed the jello to carry it back out to Manny with a spoon.

He looked at the dish as though he wasn't sure what was in it, but took it when I continued to hold it out to him. He set the dish on the wheeled tray and then took the spoon and mumbled a "thank you" as I moved to the chair I considered my spot in the room.

The silence stretched on for awhile. Just before it became too maddening, I remembered the full search I'd run, so I jumped up to grab the stack of paper I'd run off before my nap and brought it back to Manny, setting it beside his dish on the tray.

"What's that?" he asked, not bothering to look at it first.

"It's the rest of the search on Mateo Hernandez that you wanted," I explained.

"You did a full search on him?" Manny sounded shocked.

"You said you wanted everything I could get, and that was all I could get you unless I try to get his credit card activity for you. But unless you tell me more specifically what you need, that isn't all that helpful without a context to put the spending information into," I replied.

He started flipping through the pages, more taking in the general length than absorbing any of the information. Then he looked up and said, "You highlighted stuff."

"Of course," I stated with a shrug. "I always do that when I run a full search because the amount of data is overwhelming unless there are key pieces of information brought out to focus on at first. You said you wanted everything, so I ran it all, but in case you weren't serious about his elementary school records level of detail, I brought out the major points with my highlighter."

He continued to flip through it too fast to be reading it fully.

I was slightly annoyed that he wasn't taking my work more seriously, but I didn't want to just yell at him. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore, so I spoke up again. "Is that enough, or were you looking for more?"

"I don't know what I was looking for," he replied without looking at me.

"Then how will you know if you've found it?" I wondered aloud without editing.

"I thought that was your specialty," Manny replied, pushing the tray away with the now empty dish and unread search sitting on it.

For some reason, that act pissed me off. I'd done him a favor, missing out on sleep to print all of that out. Honestly, I could have lived without knowing all the horrible things Hernandez had done, but because it had seemed important to him, I'd read it anyway. And now, he was just pushing it away without a second glance.

"I know you said you thought he was the one who tried to kill you, but why would he do that?" I hoped if I could get him to talk about it, he would get interested in what I'd done again.

Obviously, I was pushing when I should have backed off, because he looked up at me with his irritated face again and told me, "Since you are the woman who can get any answer she needs at the click of a mouse, why don't you get the answer to your own question?"

"I didn't want to run a search on you, because your past is none of my business," I explained.

"If that were true, you wouldn't be pushing me on it now," he replied, his irritation only growing.

"Don't get pissy with me. I was only trying to help," I reminded him, barely hanging on to my temper.

"Then go help somebody who wants it. I didn't ask to be stuck here with the angel of the office. Like I said, everybody else might think you hung the moon, but I'm not going to bow down just because you printed off stuff," Manny argued.

"What is your problem?" I nearly yelled back. "I didn't hang the moon, and I've already told you I'm not an angel. Just because the rest of the guys are nice to me doesn't mean they are blind to who I really am."

"Believe what you want," he countered. "I know you're used to flittering around and having the guys give you whatever you want. It's like you enter the room and all the guys start thinking with their equipment beneath the desk."

I was livid at this point, not only because he was being intentionally mean to me, but because he was insulting the guys at RangeMan in the process. "Would it kill you to be nice to me? I don't know what's pissed you off, but could you just stand up for what's got you irritated and not drag the guys into it?"

"Don't flatter yourself, sweetheart," he practically laughed. "I'm not capable of being nice like the guys are. I've got one leg banged up to the point of no return, and the one in the middle hasn't shown any interest, either. In case you haven't noticed, I'm in no condition to stand up for anything."

"Don't sell yourself short, Manny." I stood up to make my point. "From where I'm looking, you've got more skills than you thought, because despite what you think isn't functioning, you've still managed to turn yourself into one enormous dick. So obviously you can rise to the occasion if you're motivated enough."

He blinked a few times but said nothing in return. I'd had enough, knowing I'd crossed a line with my last comment, but not really feeling as though I owed him an apology for it, either. At least, not yet.

I put my hands up, hoping he understood Italian Hand Gestures 101 and that he needed to stop. "Here." I tossed him the remote to the television. "We need some time to cool off, and I don't really think I want to hear your response to that."

Not giving him a chance to respond, I spun around and retreated to the bathroom, locking the door behind me. It was a sophomoric gesture, because I knew he couldn't exactly get in to interrupt my moment alone, but I still felt the need to put up a barrier.

I knew I was prone to a hot temper, and arguing with a guy was nothing new for me. Joe could offer plenty of proof to that fact. But that had felt like we were yelling about something else entirely, and even with Joe, I didn't tend to blow that much without cause.

It was strange how I had someone here in the house with me twenty-four hours a day but I was feeling more and more alone every day.


	9. Small Breakthroughs

_The great JE created the characters below._

_Jenny (JenRar) once again your beta skills took a chapter in need of attention of turned it into something readable. Thank you._

**Chapter 9 – Small Breakthroughs**

I took a long shower, which was wasteful, since I knew there was no way I'd gotten dirty enough to warrant using virtually all the hot water, but it still felt good to get clean again and to have that extra degree of separation.

When I got out and dressed, I heard voices coming from the den. At first I thought Manny was watching the television, since I had given him the remote, but after listening a little closer, I recognized Cal's voice. I knew it was earlier than he usually came, so I was curious about what had brought him here.

I pulled the door open, thankful this one didn't squeak, and stood there listening, amazed that I could hear them so clearly. Then I realized I could only hear them because they were talking so darn loud.

"What in the hell were you thinking?" Cal was demanding of Manny.

After receiving only silence as a response, Cal spoke up once more. "Hector was pounding on my door an hour ago with a live feed of the surveillance from this house and demanding to know what in the hell I was going to do about you."

"Did you tell him it was none of his damn business and that protocol in safe houses doesn't require somebody to monitor the audio the whole time?" Manny replied, a little on the cool side.

"Hell no, I didn't remind Hector about protocol, man. Did that damn bomb blow up your brain with everything else? This is Hector we're talking about. I put the damn ear bud in my ear and listened to you degrade her," Cal responded, the hardness creeping into his voice making me want to step back into the bathroom for shelter.

"Look, I've never claimed to be easy to live with," Manny pointed out. "And in light of everything, I'm having a little more trouble than usual being friendly."

"Fuck you," Cal cut in. "I'm not talking about being quiet. You were totally out of line and cruel. Say what you want, but you aren't like that."

"All I did was point out that I wasn't as enamored with her as the rest of you are," Manny defended.

"Bullshit," Cal barked out. "I'm not enamored."

Manny laughed, "Now who's slinging shit? Hell I thought you two were going to start braiding friendship bracelets last night. Don't tell me you've always had this soft side and I just didn't notice. You change who you are around her – all of you do."

"I don't change who I am," Cal disagreed. "Honestly, the only time I'm really myself is when I'm around her."

"Then ask her out and stop bothering me," Manny attempted to dismiss him.

I could tell from the sound of his voice, Cal was gritting his teeth and partially talking through them. "I don't want to ask her out. Hell, if anything, I look at her as being the little sister I never had. That woman is special, and if you think I'm going to stand back and let you yell at her, you've got another thing coming."

"If you're this pissed about it, why did you stop Hector from coming?" Manny asked. Knowing Hector, whenever he taught somebody a lesson, his student would usually walk away with a limp.

"Because I thought you deserved a lot worse than what Hector would dish out, and we agreed that I was pissed enough to hand it out," Cal informed him.

"She called me a dick," Manny pointed out in his less than mature comeback. "Why am I the one being called out?"

"Because she did it to shut you up, and you'd basically already called her a whore," Cal growled, picking up speed as he talked.

Had Manny called me a whore? I didn't remember that he had. He'd said that when I walked in, the guys started thinking with their little soldiers instead of their big ones, but that wasn't the same thing.

"I never said that," Manny jumped in, obviously not recalling that either.

"You didn't have to," Cal corrected. "You obviously think that she's paid by Ranger and the only skill she can contribute is the ability to turn on a room full of bad asses. So either you think so little of our self control that it was an insult to us, or you think the only reason she's at RangeMan is to tease the guys sexually. Which was it?"

When he put it like that, I was pretty darn curious about the answer, too.

"Neither." Manny softened his voice a little, making me have to creep back to the doorway to be sure I could hear it all. "I just recognize that when she's around, she's the focus of everyone's attention."

"And what?" Cal interrupted. "You're jealous? You have attention needs that aren't being met by your co-workers, so name calling with a woman was your solution to feel like a big man again?"

"No, you damn pussy, I didn't say that." Manny was getting worked up again.

"Then why don't you start talking and tell me what in the hell you were saying, because I know what I heard, and I don't like it," Cal prompted.

One of them let out a long breath before Manny began speaking once more. "Look, this whole situation is a fucked up mess. I never planned on being laid out in a bed, completely dependant on somebody else to take care of me. And the guy that I'm positive did this to me is somebody I've wanted out of the world for a long time. But he's always been one damn step ahead of me, and I haven't been able to plan out his next move enough to plan for it and cut him off."

"Hernandez?" Cal said to clarify, not to stop the story.

"Right, Hernandez." When Manny repeated his name, it sounded a lot more sinister than when Cal first said it. "Anyway, she did a search for me just because I asked and pulled together a calendar of his travel plans for the next three months while I was taking a nap. I took a freaking nap, and she came up with information that would allow me to finally cut this guy down." The last part sounded more like Manny was saying it in order to make some sense out of what had happened than to tell Cal anything relevant.

"Thanks for clearing that up," Cal sarcastically threw out. "So she did something you desperately needed as a favor to you, and instead of saying thank you, it made more sense to insult her."

"I'm not done," Manny continued. "Ranger's number one rule has always been to keep Stephanie safe, no matter what. But picking her to come play nurse for me put her right in the middle of a situation destined to end in somebody's death. I always assumed it would be Hernandez that would lose, but in light of my current condition, I may have been hasty in thinking that way. And now that she's done a full scale search, she's hitting me up for why I want to know about Hernandez. If I spill the full beans, she'll get even more involved, which only puts her in more danger. We both know that despite everything else, she is known for getting herself in impossible situations because she's impulsive and tends to jump into things without thinking through the consequences. And this is one situation she can't jump into. Hell, she's probably on a kill list already since she was parading around as my wife. If I fail to take out Hernnadez, then even if he gets to me, he'll want Stephanie gone, just to finish off the whole circle."

"So…" Cal was struggling with a way to sum up what Manny was really saying. "…you're being an ass to…"

Manny knew what he was getting at. "I'm doing it to keep her at arm's length. To try to protect her from Hernandez and from herself. This is one situation she simply can't jump into."

There was a soft laugh that I thought belonged to Cal. "You realize she's already there, right? I mean, she's in danger because everybody in New York has heard about the rich woman who took on St. Elizabeth's to bust her husband out. So from where I'm sitting, you have two choices."

Silence descended until Manny finally got tired of waiting on the options and prompted, "What are they?"

"First, you can let her help you. Obviously, you've missed something in the research you've done, and everybody knows there's nobody better at finding a needle in a haystack than Stephanie. You're stuck here anyway, so you may as well have something good come out of it."

"What about the danger that puts her in?" Manny insisted on pushing that card.

"Are you deaf?" Cal challenged. "She's already there. You're just shooting yourself in the foot by not accepting her help. Your tough guy act isn't protecting her; it's just pissing her off."

"What's my second option?" Manny asked, apparently not liking what he saw behind door number one.

"You can keep up the routine you've got going on, insulting, being short, and refusing to speak civilly to her." There was a strange cracking sound, like somebody snapping their knuckles. "And if you decide to go that way, I can help you."

"You'll help me find Hernandez?" Manny almost sounded convinced that was the way to go.

"Sure," Cal laughed at Manny's question, but he didn't really sound amused. "I'll help you finish off your damn mission in life. You said you won't give up until you or Hernandez are dead, and if you don't let up on Stephanie, I'll take you out myself." He paused for a second before adding, "Got it?"

"Hell, man..." Manny actually sounded a little nervous. "Are you sure you aren't jonesing for Stephanie?"

There was the definite sound of a punch being thrown.

"Fuck, man, you're beating on a man stuck in a hospital bed."

"Let up on my little sister, or I'll see to you never get out of that bed," Cal clarified. "Got it?"

"Shit, man, I got it. You don't have to come in here beating up the bully on the playground," Manny said, trying to lighten the mood.

"I don't know why you're the only guy in the world that doesn't see it, but there's something special about Stephanie, and there's no way in hell I'm going to let you get away with trying to put that spark out. If I have to take a leave of absence and come sit in this damn room to keep you in line, I'll do it."

That threat made me laugh. I'd never had a brother, but I'd always wished I had. The way Cal was acting should have pissed me off, because I hated being told what to do, so I usually bristled whenever anybody tried to assert that kind of control over another person, but for some reason, hearing Cal do it made me smile.

Of course, I didn't think it was good idea to encourage him to beat up everybody that looked at me in a cross way. And something told me if I didn't do something, Cal was going to try. It might be cute now, but I figured him doing the same thing to every skip, checkout line cashier, and person on the street would get old quick, so I had to put this in its proper place.

I walked out to the den and spoke loud enough to interrupt their chat. "There is a third option."

Both of them looked at me as though I'd gotten the jump on them. Ha! I'd snuck up on two Merry Men. I was going to have to ask Hector how he moved without being heard, because this was too much fun to stop now. I couldn't wait to try it in the office.

Seeing that they were speechless, I decided to jump in and take their lack of comment as consent to start talking. "Option three is to tell me everything and let me make my own decision about what I want to do. I may rush in on occasion, but there have been situations that I've refused to participate in because I knew I couldn't do a thing to be helpful. So instead of going all caveman, you might want to step back and actually ask me what I could do to be helpful and what I might be willing to do. We're stuck here anyway, and if you make me watch one more PBS special, I'm going to start hurting you, so you may as well keep me busy."

Cal put his hand over his mouth to keep from laughing, obviously thinking my tirade was only aimed at Manny.

So I pointed my finger in Cal's direction and said, "You could have asked me if I needed help before coming in here and threatening to take out somebody from RangeMan. This isn't exactly proof positive that you trust me."

"I trust you," he attempted to dig himself out of a hole. "It's him I don't trust."

"To take your favorite word – bullshit." Watching Cal turn red was fun, so I kept talking. "If you trusted me then you would have called to ask how I was doing instead of just barging in here and threatening the guy I've been asked to take care of."

He looked down, which in my world meant he was admitting defeat, and I had to work at controlling my face so that my internal dance of joy at finally winning an argument at RangeMan wouldn't shine through.

Then he totally blew me away by saying, "I should have called first, huh?"

I took a few steps closer and smiled at him to release some of the tension. "That would have been nice. I would have told you not to come prepared to kick anybody's ass, but you could have brought dinner."

Cal pulled me to him for a quick hug, and I realized how lucky I was to have this big guy in my life. I still didn't understand why he went from slightly friendly but still reserved to my self-proclaimed big brother just because I'd volunteered to help Manny and we'd chatted over Pino's. But I did say there was nothing in the world better than Pino's, so maybe it had a magic quality I just wasn't aware of yet.

Once he let me go, Cal asked, "As long as I'm here, is there anything else I can do for you?"

I asked him to carry back the files I'd finished for RangeMan and bring me some more if there were any. I didn't comment when Cal gave Manny one more threat to stay in line or he'd be back but the next time he'd bring Hector with him. Cal had the good sense to blush slightly when he turned around from his threat to see me glaring at him and holding the files.

Just before he left, Cal handed me a flash drive that he said contained some instructions from Bobby about new changes to Manny's routine. "I don't think he's going to be able to make it tonight. Bobby thought he had a tail and couldn't risk bringing them here. I guess the feds have been trying to figure out where Manny vanished to, saying he hadn't been debriefed and until that happened, he was property of the US government."

I laughed under my breath, and Cal asked what was so funny.

"If Manny gives me any more trouble, I'll call them myself to let them pick up their property."

Cal smiled at my response before saying, "It's only funny because I know you'd never do it."

"You sure?" I challenged.

With a quick kiss on my forehead, he turned to leave. "Positive," he called out over his shoulder before leaving me once more with my less-than-cooperative patient.

I gripped the flash drive and went in search of my laptop to open the file, deciding to see what kind of treats Bobby had in store for me now. Bobby had given me instructions for more stretches and exercises and suggested Manny begin getting out of bed and attempting to move. Obviously, all weight needed to stay off his injured leg, but there was a walker in the hall closet that he could use. I rolled my eyes, wondering how in the hell I would convince Manny to use a walker. He also suggested that Manny was probably ready to eat, and once we got him going on food, we could incentivize him by saying he could lose the IV and just keep the port for meds, which we would be stretching out the dosing periods for longer and longer each day.

"I've got good news and bad news," I told Manny as I came around the corner from the kitchen with the laptop in hand.

"What's the good news?" Manny asked, surprising me by going for the more lighthearted first.

"It's time for you to get out of that bed and start moving around a little, at least enough to sit in a chair for a change of scenery," I informed him.

He didn't look thrilled at the news, but he wasn't fighting me on it, either. "Then what's the bad news?"

"You have to do it while not putting any weight on that leg, which means using a walker." As I told him that piece of news, I looked down at the laptop, as though reading the instructions.

"No way in hell am I using a walker," he emphatically stated. "I'll hop, or limp, or whatever to keep the weight off, but I'm not in some damn nursing home and I'm not going to use one of those things." The more he spoke, the more he reminded me of a petulant child refusing to eat their vegetables at the dinner table.

"Okay," I pretended to agree. "You can hop and enjoy the surges of stabbing pain every time you jar that injured rib, or you can just stay in bed and allow the bed sores to form that are inevitable from such prolonged exposure to a mattress."

He didn't seem to like that image, so I added, "Oh, and if you don't learn how to move around a little, then that catherter has to stay in, and there's no way I can start you on real food, either, because I don't see you letting me wipe your ass."

Manny's chin nearly hit his chest, and his good hand balled up into a fist. I gave him time to absorb everything I was telling him and then tried not to wince when he screamed out, "Fuuuuck!"

Once he grew quiet, I asked, "Feel better?"

He looked up at me and squinted his eyes like he was trying to focus on something far away. Finally, he answered, "No, I feel like a useless sack of shit that can't even walk to the bathroom to take a piss. What kind of man pees in a bag?" Then he tilted his head like a new thought had hit him and asked, "Who's been emptying the bag?"

"Me," I confessed, not seeing the point in lying to him.

"I haven't seen you do it," he stated, not doubting my word, just trying to get a grip on reality.

"You sleep a lot," I told him. "I figured it would be easier on you if I did that kind of stuff when you were out of it."

"I'm an ass, aren't I?" he surprised me by asking.

"Why would you say that?" I didn't want him to beat himself up, but he had been kind of mean to me since we got here, so I didn't feel the need to just let him off the hook, either.

"I'm not the easiest person to get along with on a good day," Manny began, like admitting that was difficult for him.

"Neither am I." Perhaps a little understanding would help. "I'm stubborn, I'm impulsive, and I'm quick to fly off the handle."

He gave me a half smile, as though he appreciated what I was trying to do, but he wasn't fully buying it. It was at that moment that something stuck me – Manny was good looking. His skin was much lighter than Ranger's, but still several shades darker than Joe's. His hair was long and seemed to scream for attention. Even with it being filthy, I still wanted to run my fingers through it because of how straight and silky I knew it would be. He was well defined, but not layered with muscles on top of muscles like Tank. Still, you'd have to be a fool to not be able to appreciate his build.

While I was lost in checking him out, Manny started talking again. Unfortunately, I missed part of it but picked up partially through what I believed was an apology of sorts.

"…and despite all that, you still spent all night digging up information for me and emptying my bag of piss. I can't promise I'll become easy to get along with, but I'll try not to take off your head anymore, either."

"That sounds fair," I jumped in to stop him from rambling. As much as I loved it when the guys opened up to me, I could tell this whole conversation was making Manny jumpy, and I didn't want him to be that uncomfortable.

Unfortunately, since I wanted to change the subject quickly, I blurted out the first thing that came to my mind and said, "How would you like to try getting out of that bed?"

"I still don't want to use the walker," he grumbled, practically pouting.

My eyes rolled on their own at that remark before I could even attempt to stop them. "Then help me come up with an idea to balance the weight so that you can move forward without using that leg for balance."

"Can I lean on you?" he asked, a little unsure of himself.

Normally, I would have made a comment about him weighing way too much for me to help him, but something in the vulnerability of that sentence kept my mouth closed, and I nodded instead. Then I remembered a certain problem about getting him out of bed and said, "Hang tight for a few minutes, and I'll see if I can get something to cover you up."

He looked down at himself and remembered his nudity before tugging on the sheet and agreeing. "I'll be here."

I couldn't remember anyone mentioning clothes for Manny anywhere, so I went to the bedroom at the end of the hall where my great-grandparents had slept and opened the closet. It was mostly empty, but hanging on the side, on a hook he'd installed himself, was a green bathrobe that I remembered seeing Nagypapa wearing at breakfast over his pajamas. I figured it could at least cover his most private bits until I could get someone to bring more appropriate clothes, so I grabbed it and shut the closet back the way I'd found it.

As I turned to leave the bedroom, I could have sworn I felt something cool blow over me and then that familiar male voice in my ears told me, "That's right, child. If you take care of the outside, the inside will start to open up, too."

I froze and spun around to be sure no one was in the room with me. Seeing nothing, I turned back around and walked as fast as possible to get back to the den. I didn't want Manny to see me running, but I was a little unnerved by the voices I was hearing that I wasn't convinced were in my head.

When I entered the den and held out the robe, Manny nodded and took it from me. I moved over to the table to turn my back on the bed, giving Manny a little privacy and allowing my eyes to fall on the gun I'd hidden under the paperwork the night before.

"All right, I think I'm mostly covered, at least until I try to get up," he announced, giving me permission to turn around once more.

I picked up the Glock and held it out to him, "I figure since you're not going to be lying around naked anymore, you may as well really get dressed."

Seeing what I was offering him, Manny smiled – truly smiled – for the first time since we'd been here, and I realized what that hidden voice from the bedroom was telling me. If I wanted to thaw out the heart of the man in front of me, I had to better attend to his outer needs. And for any guy from RangeMan, that meant helping them to really feel secure.

He took the Glock and palmed it briefly before checking the action, ejecting the clip to verify it was loaded, and then reassembling the gun and engaging the safety once more. He looked around before finally setting it on the tray that I'd used for his rolling table and asking, "You don't have a holster, do you?"

"Me?" I asked, trying to subtly remind him that I didn't carry a gun, much less a holster for one. I decided that being sarcastic wouldn't really help things, so I teasingly offered, "I'm sure we can rig something to attach it to your cast after you've moved around a little."

He gave it some thought and glanced down at his fiberglass-encased leg. "That's a good idea; no one would suspect a weapon there."

I controlled the eye roll at his excitement for the homemade holster and then moved to the edge of the bed and asked if he was ready to move a little.

"No walker," he stated one more time, as though saying it aloud would make it less likely to be necessary.

I couldn't really fault him. The plan must have had merit, because I repeated his words, committing myself to helping him regain some independence without feeling so broken in the process. Now all I had to do was figure out how to make that happen, and we'd be home free.


	10. A Blast From the Past

_The characters below are from the genius of JE, not me._

_Jenny (JenRar) thank you for so freely giving of your time and knowledge to help me work on this story as the beta._

**Chapter 10 – A Blast from the Past**

I guess it's true that muscle weighs more than fat, because the moment Manny managed to stand, pull the newly opened robe closed at the front, put his arm around my shoulder, and lean into me, I started to struggle to bear his weight. I was about to tell him I didn't think this would work, but when I looked at him, he was obviously struggling to manage the pain that the movement caused, and the thin layer of sweat that popped out on his forehead along with the fact his bottom lip had disappeared between his teeth caused me to keep my mouth shut.

I grabbed the hand gripping my shoulder and put my other arm around his waist. Of course, that took both of my hands, and I smiled when I realized it felt strange to talk without having the option of making any hand gestures.

I nodded toward the chair I'd been sitting in, which was only five feet away, and said, "Let's try to make it to the chair and then get you settled back down for awhile."

He nodded but didn't release his lip long enough to say anything.

"Are you sure you're up for this?" I asked, ready to help him get back in bed if that was what he needed.

Manny must have noticed what I was considering, because he swallowed twice and then relaxed his face. "Pain is just weakness leaving the body," he said in what had to be the lamest self-motivation speech I'd ever heard.

"What?" I couldn't stop myself from asking. "Tell me you never considered a second career as a greeting card writer."

He glared at me and said, "Let's move." I guess he wasn't a fan of sarcasm.

When I was in high school, I briefly considered nursing as a possible career choice. My mother had suggested it, but I'd decided against it because I wasn't a big fan of the sight of blood and I hated doctors, so I couldn't see a career that forced me to work with them all day. Now, as I attempted to assist Manny to move a few feet, I realized I'd made the right call. Health care workers, especially good ones, were obviously an undervalued group of professionals. It was hard to keep quiet and not give him an easy out. My head knew he needed to do this in order to get better, but my heart just broke with every move he made because I could see the pain on his face. By the time we reached our target, I was biting my lip to keep from making a sound, and he was looking like he'd just run a marathon.

It took nearly as long to get him turned around and settled into the chair as it had to walk the distance from the bed, but once he was settled with his leg elevated, I could see that he looked pale, but good. The physical exertion was obvious, but he had a look in his eyes that appeared to be a spark of life that had been missing when he was stuck in that bed. I hadn't noticed it at the time, but seeing the contrast, I knew that allowing him to push himself and move to the chair was the right thing to do.

Some of that victorious expression faded when he saw me settling his IV pole and catheter bag, but I refused to let him focus on the negative.

"When do I lose the bag?" he asked, glaring at it as though his gaze alone would make it go up in flames.

I shrugged. "That's a Bobby question, and he isn't here. Cal said he couldn't come by tonight in order to keep RangeMan covered that they had nothing to do with you leaving the hospital. Apparently, the government feels you are their property until you've been officially debriefed, and they are beginning to monitor the guys at the office a little more closely."

That statement got me a dry laugh, but he didn't explain if it was being called their property or the fact that the guys were having to live with hall monitors that amused him. "You can take it out," he suggested, proving just how desperate he was to be rid of it.

"Once you prove you can get to the can, I'll be glad to Google ripping plastic tubing from a guy's penis and try it out the first time on you."

My words had the desired effect on him, as he went from moderately pale to nearly green. A slight nod was all I got for a response. His eyes closed, and I wondered for a few minutes if he was going to fall asleep on me, but when he popped them open, he looked strangely better. It was like he'd done some kind of weird meditation that took away the discomfort of moving.

Trusting that he wasn't going to fall out of the chair if I stepped away, I moved to his hospital bed and changed the sheets. While I was working, I chatted about nothing in particular, and when I finished and checked on Manny, he was fiddling with the robe, trying to keep everything covered but struggling.

"Where did you get this robe?" he asked, giving up trying to keep it together and just holding it in place.

"It belonged to Nagypapa," I told him, hoping the idea of wearing a dead guy's clothes wouldn't weird him out too much.

"You've talked about him a lot. Do you have a picture?" he surprised me by asking.

I thought about pictures. I knew they used to keep all kinds of photos around and had to struggle to remember where they were. I went to the hall closet and pulled out some old shoe boxes that I knew contained their memories. It only took a little digging before I came up with a suitable photo of the people who had lived in this house happily for so long.

I handed it to him, and he glanced at it before blinking and squinting, as though the picture wasn't in focus. I looked over his shoulder to be sure it was still clear to me and then began to wonder if we had overtaxed his system by making him move. Something about the picture was bothering him, which would make no sense.

I tried getting his attention by saying his name, but he was still focused on the old picture. "Are you okay?"

Manny finally shook his head and lifted the picture to give it back to me, before pulling it back for a final look.

"What's going on? Why are you acting so strange?" I finally blurted out, not sure what to make of his reaction.

"I've seen him," he admitted, giving me the picture. "I've had a couple of really out there dreams, and he was in both of them."

I looked at the picture again, and sighed as I remembered how much I'd adored them. "Grandma Mazur used to say that they would always be in this house and she couldn't sell it because it would be selling her parents off to strangers, but she couldn't live here because their memory wouldn't give her any peace."

"You mean your crazy grandmother thought her parents were haunting this house?" He sounded unconvinced.

"She never said it like that, but I'll admit that being here has given me some strange dreams starring them, too, so I don't think I'd just call her crazy because she thought her parents were somehow tied to this house." I found myself defending the sanity of a woman I had regularly thought was off her rocker.

"I was calling her crazy because she has a thing for dressing like a high school girl and feeling us up every time one of the guys is near her," he explained, quickly taking the wind out of my argumentative sails. "I was going to blame it on the drugs you kept pumping into me, but I've never had trouble with hallucinations before, so them being tied to this house isn't such a stretch for me."

"You mean, the whole…ghost thing doesn't…freak you out?" I couldn't figure out how to ask it without just putting it out there and risking him calling me crazy along with Grandma Mazur.

"I've never been one that demanded an explanation for everything. And to think that our lives just end when we die is kind of depressing. I mean, I've lost people that were important to me and then later felt like they were still around somehow to help me when I needed it," he explained, not looking me in the eye.

"Who?" I asked, wishing he would open up to me a little.

Whatever the yellow wall across the room was showing him must have been helpful, because he didn't take his eyes off of it as he spoke. "My sister was killed four years ago by Hernandez, and there have been many times since she died that I thought I could hear her voice or just feel her guiding me when I was in a difficult situation."

"How do you know Hernandez killed her?" I asked, unable to stop myself.

Manny found the strength to stop staring at the wall and turned his attention to me instead. Once I saw the look on his face, failing to conceal the pain his memory was causing, I regretted asking the question and forcing him to relive something that hurt him this much.

"My sister was older than me, but she was naive and trusting so I'd always felt the need to watch over her. She fell for this international businessman who showered her with gifts and attention every time he was in New York, and she believed everything he told her – that she was the only woman for him and he hated the time they spent apart as much as she did," he began explaining, his eyes falling back to the lemon wall. "I didn't trust him at all, even though I'd never met him. At first, she said it was just some kind of super macho brother response."

I couldn't help but think of Cal, who'd come all the way over here to threaten to beat up Manny for being mean to me. I could see his sister's point.

"But I knew there was something wrong with a guy that was never available to meet her family and refused to give her a way to reach him when he was home. She only had his number for his American apartment."

When he said that, I agreed with Manny that it sounded like her boyfriend was hiding something.

"So I did what any well trained Ranger would do, and I set up surveillance in her apartment to get pictures of her mystery man so that I could find out who he was. I had to pass off the ID to Hector when I was called into the wind for a mission with Ranger. We had to go to Colombia to play the part of cousins in a family interested in bringing drugs to the streets of Trenton and who were shopping for a supplier. I met Hernandez the first time there as a part of our mission. I hated the guy from the first moment I saw him, but I played my role, and we left with enough information to take down the Jimenez family, who had been the largest supplier to date from Colombia to America. They also seemed to be the supplier to the Hernandez export business, so by doing our job well, we made Mateo's life a little harder, at least temporarily. Once the feds got the intel we'd gathered, they pulled us out but kept our personas intact in case we had to do it again."

I couldn't figure out why he was giving me all this information. I was pretty sure he was breaking all kinds of confidentiality rules and tried to hang onto every word so that I could keep up without putting all the names and dates in my memory so that I wouldn't remember this conversation after he finished.

"When I got back from the mission, Hector called me into his office and gave me a folder on my sister's boyfriend. He'd reviewed the tapes I hadn't had a chance to look at and was able to do a basic search to get me some starting information. When I opened the folder that night, I nearly choked on my beer. The picture of the man holding my sister in her home was none other than Mateo Hernandez, and when I looked closer at the enlarged version of the photo, I saw a picture of my sister and me framed on her end table, which meant Hernandez would have been able to make the connection that the guy I had pretended to be was related to his American mistress."

Oh man, I could see so many different ways for this to turn ugly, but I kept my mouth shut, not wanting to force him to relive any of it if he didn't want to.

"I called my sister that night and convinced her to meet me the next weekend at a park where we liked to hike together. I figured it would give us privacy for what was a really difficult conversation. I brought the file Hector had pulled together, and then as we hiked, I told her who her boyfriend really was and how I knew the information Hector had pulled together was true."

He stopped talking for a minute, but then his jaw tightened down before he started again. I knew whatever was about to come out was what he considered to be the hard part and he was gearing himself up for it.

"At first, she was furious at me for spying on her, but once I finished explaining who he was, she was mad at herself for falling for a guy that was everything she fought against. My sister worked at a drug addiction facility, helping people get clean and stay that way. The idea that she was accepting gifts from a man who supplied her patients' drugs was more than she could handle. She came back to Trenton with me and took a week off just to get her head around what had happened. We talked about how she had to break things off with Hernandez, and I even got her to agree to a new security system in her apartment so that when she insisted on going back to her life, I could still keep an eye on her."

Manny had to stop and clear his voice before continuing. "She called me a few times every day after she returned to New York. She called the number she had for Hernandez and broke up with him by leaving him a message. His extended silence gave her a false sense of security that she'd managed to get out of that mistake easily. I wasn't nearly as confident as she was and begged her to move to Trenton or to at least continue with the extra security measures we'd used to keep her safe. But after a month with no contact, my stubborn sister ditched her trackers and went out to a night club for fun without letting me know. The next morning, I called her and couldn't get an answer. I waited for a few hours until I couldn't stand the silence anymore, and then I got in my truck and drove down."

He stopped suddenly and rubbed his eyes with his thumbs and index fingers. "I saw her car as soon as I pulled into her complex parking lot, and I knew something was terribly wrong. When I approached, I saw her slumped over in the back seat. She'd been shot execution style, and there was a yellow rose sitting on her chest. The yellow rose was part of the Hernandez logo, and even though the police would have said it was circumstantial at best, I couldn't come up with anything concrete to tie him to the murder, other than my gut. I gave all the information to Ranger, and he offered to help me track down Mateo and settle the score, but I refused. Somehow, I thought I was a big enough badass to exact the revenge for my sister's death myself. And for the next four years, I tried and failed to get close enough to him to put a bullet in his head like he did my sister."

Shit, listening to this story made so many things more clear. He got pissed at me for being impulsive and for not taking my safety seriously. He was really irritated at Cal for daring to stand up for me in the role of a brother, and he was pissed at Ranger for intentionally putting me in danger by having me insert myself into Manny's life. In light of what happened to his sister, all of it made sense now.

"This time, when Ranger and I were tapped to reprise our drug lord personas, we went back in easily picking up characters we'd played several times over the last few years. I figured there was no way I'd get in and out without crossing paths with Mateo again. The family we were dealing with was new but somehow tied to the Hernandez dynasty. I had made peace with the fact that I probably wouldn't make it out alive, but I was determined to take Mateo out with me. When I got to my car, I saw a yellow rose on the steering wheel, along with a note. That fucker had the balls to tell me that he'd never forgotten that I had caused him to lose his favorite toy. I dropped the flower and took off, knowing that somebody like Hernandez wouldn't have left the flower as a token of his appreciation for the game of cat and mouse. He never did anything without a purpose, and it hit me that he wanted me to stay at the car and focused on the note long enough for his device to detonate. I knew his love affair with bombs, so I ran like hell and got far enough away to keep from dying, but…"

Manny looked down at the effects of the explosion. He'd kept his life, but it had come at a cost.

"You kept from dying," I repeated, wanting to get him back in that frame of thinking. "This will heal," I reminded him.

"Maybe." He sounded doubtful at best, but conceded, "Mostly."

"What was her name?" I asked, not sure if it was a mistake or not to bring him back to his sister's memory.

"Elaina," he replied. "I called her Laney."

I smiled at the fact that none of the guys at RangeMan seemed to be capable of calling people by their given names. I wondered how offended our parents would be at the amount of time they spent picking the perfect name for us, just to have our friends toss it out and call us something else entirely.

I remembered the dream I'd had last night, where Nagypapa was trying to convince Manny to stop trying to get revenge for the life that had been lost, as she would not have wanted that. "The dream…"

"What dream?" Manny asked, obviously hearing my half-baked thought.

I explained what strange thing my subconscious had given me for entertainment and how I'd heard a conversation between him and my great-grandfather.

When I finished talking, he rubbed his neck with his good hand and said, "Shit."

That wasn't exactly the reaction I'd been expecting, so I looked at him pointedly and waited for him to explain the expletive.

"I had the exact same dream, except after I had a conversation with the guy from the picture where he tried to talk me out of living for revenge, I came back to the garden where I'd been and listened to you talk to an old woman about how I hated you." He paused and then turned to look at me better. "I don't, you know…hate you."

"At first I thought it was just irritation at the situation, but then when it continued, I started to take it personally. I think I understand a little better now," I told him, trying to let him off the hook.

"Good," he replied, and then added. "Maybe you could explain it to me sometime."

I decided to end all the heavy emotional shit and lightly smacked his shoulder. Manny rubbed it, probably out of habit more than pain inflicted by my pitiful smack, but when he moved his hands, his robe gaped open. I couldn't help but notice. When I realized I was basically staring at his private parts, I turned red and had to take a step away.

Manny saw my face and then looked down at his crotch. It surprised me that he didn't instantly cover it up. It was more like he was having a staring contest with the eye trying to peek out from the gap in the material. Finally, he lost by looking away first and then looked up at me and said, "I think, until I'm in pants of some sort, I'm going to need something other than a robe."

I quickly walked to the couch, lifted the multicolored afghan, and then handed it to him. "I'm going to get you some broth and jello while you get a handle on things out here."

As I walked away, I realized if Lester had heard that sentence, he would have accused me of instructing Manny to masturbate. Fortunately, Manny said nothing and began moving the blanket around to get himself covered up.

A few hours later, we retraced the path from the chair back to the bed. He didn't look any worse for wear from the excursion, which was encouraging. After I was convinced he was comfortable, I offered him pain meds, which he refused. I decided to try trusting him at first and didn't push the issue. Obviously he had a thing against them, and after hearing what his sister had done for a living, I didn't want to keep drugging him against his will, so I told him to let me know if he changed his mind and gave up pushing it anymore.

We turned the television on for a little background noise, and it didn't take long before he fell asleep, breathing deeply enough that I had no doubts he was out. Even knowing I didn't need to stay awake and watch over him, I was reluctant to go to sleep while I was in charge of him. So I stayed awake by thinking about how to make a homemade holster for the Glock I'd given him earlier. I remembered the workshop in the basement that used to be Nagypapa's, so I decided that it wouldn't hurt anything if I went down there and snooped around for a while. I'd be directly below Manny's bed, so I'd hear any movement, giving me the incentive to let him out of my sight for a little while.

I went downstairs and felt like I was turning back the clock with every step I touched. Coming down to the workshop was a special treat that had to be earned, and I remembered the time I spent down her as being like going on a great adventure. My mother hated it because I usually came back upstairs dirty, but she loved her grandparents and never fussed at them for allowing it.

When I made it to the bottom of the stairs and flipped the switch, I was shocked to see the light bulb come on. I'd figured after all this time, it would have been useless. I moved slowly until I realized the basement was as clean as the rest of the house, so I didn't need to hold my hand out in front of my face to keep from walking into any spiderwebs or other strange or disgusting things that happened in old abandoned houses.

Most of the tools were still hanging on the pegboard wall, and his bench was still there, as well, with a large piece of wood and several smaller pieces sitting there, as though waiting for him to come back and pick up his project where he left off.

I ran my hands over the wood and felt how smooth it was. He'd sanded this down already, or it would have been rough. Realizing that as much fun as it was to stay on memory lane remembering the good times down here, I knew I wasn't capable of making Manny a gun holster from wood, so I needed to move on. I did find a belt and some other materials that I thought we could use to make a holder for the gun and attach it to his cast. Satisfied that this was all I could do at the moment. I gathered the things and made my way back to the stairs. Taking one last glance back over my shoulder, I briefly saw a man standing at the wood with his hand rubbing the top exactly as mine had.

Words Nagypapa had said to me when he'd trusted me with my own sandpaper filled my head. "Don't push, or you wear down the wood into weak places. You just have to move smoothly, evenly, and wait for it to tell you when it's ready for more."

I probably should have been frightened that my mind was snapping enough for me to hear voices and now my eyes were compromised enough to actually see at least a shell of the man that I remembered, but after the talk with Manny about his sister, I wasn't frightened at all.

I guess the instructions could apply to more than wood working. If I'd pushed Manny at any point, he might have bucked the pressure and shut down, but by waiting him out, he'd told me what he could. I had no idea why guys thought women were so confusing. From where I was standing, the male gender was a hell of a lot more confusing than women were. How was I supposed to know when to push and when to back off?

I needed help. Even though the task of caring for one of the guys sounded so simple, I knew I was out of my league. Just knowing my great grandparents were still here to watch over me no longer made me question my sanity; it brought with it a measure of comfort.

And right now, a little comfort seemed like exactly what I needed most.


	11. A Bonding Experience

_All the usual applies…I didn't make up the people below. Janet gets that credit._

_Jenny (JenRar) somehow saying, "the usual" doesn't seem to apply for you. Thank you for your work as the beta on this story and for always giving my writing the extra time and attention it needs to be presentable. _

**Chapter 11 – A Bonding Experience**

I jolted awake, going from completely asleep to wide awake in a matter of a heartbeat. Because that fast of a shift made me sit up at the same time, I realized I'd fallen asleep in the easy chair, and the fast movement produced a kink in my neck that hurt. As one hand flew up to press on the cramping muscle, I realized that I was surrounded by nine milimeter bullets and looked at Manny in the hope that he could explain how that had happened.

He was holding the clip that belonged to the gun I'd given him the night before and apparently had been pulling the shells out one at the time and throwing them at me. I felt it was safe to assume that was what had woken me, and because I'd never been accused of being sweet and loving first thing in the morning, even on my best day, I went straight from confused to rhino in the blink of an eye.

"Why in the hell are you hitting me?" I growled.

"Because you wouldn't wake up when I called you, and I needed you awake," Manny replied, obviously not much of a morning person himself, because his voice was beginning to match mine in its tone.

"You couldn't have called me louder? Why did you turn to pelting the sleeping girl, happily dreaming in a chair?" I continued to increase my volume.

"Because it seemed like a better option that firing the gun," he replied, matching my volume or slightly exceeding it with his own.

"Don't make me regret giving you that gun," I threatened him, lifting the hand not rubbing the spasm in my neck and noticing it still held the makeshift gun holster that I'd put together last night.

"What is that?" he asked, looking at the black mass swinging in my hand.

I tossed it at him. "I made you a holster to strap that to your cast like you wanted yesterday. I know it isn't like a real one, but I think it will work."

He picked it up and quickly figured out the intention with the pouch for the gun and the belt to go around his leg. He moved it around his thigh, but the cast on his arm made it difficult to buckle.

I moved closer and tightened the belt for him, pleased to see that it would stay put. "How's that?"

His hand moved around the belt, testing how tight it was, and then he looked up and me and smiled. It wasn't one of those room lighting grins, nor was it a teasing gesture. It was just a simple acknowledgement that he was pleased, and it made me feel at least ten feet tall.

"So, now that you've gotten me awake and up, what was so important that you had to wake me up right then?" I wondered, hoping my question wouldn't ruin his good mood.

"The cell phone you've got was ringing," he told me, pointing to the coffee table where it was sitting. "Whoever it is has been trying to reach you for the last half hour. I figure it must be important, because they've called at least a dozen times."

No sooner had he said that than the phone began to ring once more. I jumped up and got it just in time to hear Cal's voice say, "I'm at your front door. Can I come in?"

I decided to give him a taste of his own medicine and hung up without responding or saying goodbye and then turned off the alarm and opened the door. Of course, my little internal victory dance at showing the guys how rude it was to be hung up on was short lived, as the second the door opened, Cal stepped in, looking like a storm cloud, and moved past me with a speed that told me he had a purpose for being here, and it wasn't to play cards.

I barely got the alarm back on before I heard Manny yelp and call out, "What the hell was that for, man?"

"You hit her?" Cal questioned, the words dripping with fury, barely contained.

"Cal, what's going on?" I ran in to interrupt the playground brawl before it got anymore serious.

"I had the feed patched into my cell phone when you didn't answer my calls, and I heard you yell at Manny for hitting you and pelting you. I know you don't want people fighting your fights, but there's no way in hell I'm sitting around and letting this asshole hurt you," Cal explained, the effort of trying to hold onto his temper was apparent.

"God save me from testosterone," I pleaded under my breath.

Both of them questioned, "What?"

I balled up a fist and pounded into Cal's shoulder as hard as I could.

He looked down where I'd smacked him, without reacting at all, and asked, "Why did you do that?"

He might be unaffected, but I was in need of ice on my hand. I had to settle for shaking it instead as I replied, "If you want to come in here to defend my honor, please ask me next time if it needs defending. I promise not to hold you back from a deserved fight, but I can't have you running off half-cocked, either."

Manny spoke next. "She was asleep in the chair, past where I could reach her, and I knew someone had been trying to contact her on the phone, but she slept through it. I took the clip out of the gun and was tossing the shells at her until one of them bounced off her hair and hit her cheek. It spooked her, so she jumped up and asked why I was hitting her. I didn't hurt her. It was just all I could think of doing so she would answer the phone, because I knew you'd hit the roof if you didn't reach her soon."

Can rubbed his tattoo with the palm of his hand before admitting, "Damn, I'm an asshole, aren't I?"

I moved closer to him and threw my arms around his waist. "No, you aren't an asshole. You're just impulsive and need to learn to chill a little if you're going to be some kind of self-proclaimed protector for me."

"I don't chill well," he explained, tightening his arms around me.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Manny rubbing his shoulder as he mumbled, "No shit."

I pulled back just enough to talk but not enough to break free from the hold Cal had on me. He might be like a brother to me, but it still felt good to be in his arms, against his hard, safe chest, so I wasn't in a hurry to escape. "Before you turned into the noble knight charging in here to defend my honor, was there something you needed?"

It took Cal a minute to pull himself together and remember why he'd been calling me in the first place. "Yeah, I have some new files for you and figured you had some finished ones for me. Then I got some intel I thought I should pass along."

"What kind of intel?" I was on edge. The guys didn't tend to include me in the information they discovered unless it was vital to protecting me.

"Well, it seems your escape from St. Elizabeth's has been noticed," Cal said, glancing over at Manny.

"Kind of hard to miss a guy getting blown up one day and disappearing hours later," Manny replied, as though he hadn't heard anything alarming.

"True," Cal agreed. "The first one to get the memo were the feds who came to take you into federal custody. They were told about your wife signing you out, and apparently made a scene that you weren't married. But the hospital had all the necessary paperwork to prove you were as far as they were concerned."

I knew Hector had had a hand in creating the documents, so they would look as real as possible because his skills in forgery were top notch. I had already planned on getting him to make me a new license when the true birth date on mine was no longer something I would be willing to share.

"Then yesterday, this guy—" Cal pulled out a photo and tossed it to Manny "—came to the room where you had been only to discover an eighty-year-old woman had taken your place. He, too, pitched a fit that you were gone, saying that he was your brother and he was there to take you home. Once again, the hospital produced the documents that you'd been signed out by your wife. But that guy didn't believe them, so they pulled the hospital security tapes and gave him a glimpse of his sister-in-law. He made some half-assed story that she traveled for work and he didn't realize she was back in the country, which actually fit with the cover we'd used, so the staff relaxed."

"So is this news something we should be worrying about?" I asked, figuring it certainly couldn't be good that they had a face to go with a made up name.

"No need to worry exactly. Knowing you exist and knowing where you are aren't the same things. But you definitely needed to know. Tank had a check-in with Ranger last night, and he felt that he could have the assignment wrapped up in two more weeks, so we have every reason to think that you will be safe here for the whole time, as long as we stick to the plan of keeping you completely hidden," Cal explained. "We don't even know who this guy is. We assumed he was somehow tied to whoever attempted to take out Manny, but we don't have a way to prove it."

"Can I see that picture?" I asked, thinking it was probably a good idea to know who had been asking about me.

The photo wasn't the greatest quality, but it was still good enough to see the face of a man with darker skin, short hair, in a suit that probably cost more than my current mode of transportation. But there was something about his mouth that I couldn't shake. His bottom lip was significantly larger than the top one. It almost gave the impression that he didn't have a top lip. And then I remembered I'd seen that guy before.

"Excuse me," I mumbled, keeping the picture tight in my hands and escaping to the kitchen where the laptop had been charging last night.

It took me ten minutes to pull up the PDF I'd made of all the information from the search programs I'd run on Mateo Hernandez. Since the newspaper articles tended to have art with them, I began there and quickly scrolled through the pictures until I found what I was looking for.

The guy in the picture from the hospital had attended an event in New York last year with Mateo Hernandez and was identified in the photo as Juan, the cousin of the philanthropic Mateo. While the positive spin on the Hernandez family was slightly nauseating, I figured it was probably important to know who he was, so I started pulling what I could find on Juan.

The programs came back quickly, which was usually bad news, because the faster it ran, the less information it produced.

The fathers of Juan and Mateo were brothers in Colombia. It appeared as though Juan had had a short, but highly decorated career in the military as an explosives expert. He had no family of his own, and there was not enough interest in his life for me to scare up any other information in newspapers or the internet.

I carried the laptop in and set it on Manny's tray before pushing it over and showing him the photo and the picture from the search I'd run on Mateo earlier.

Manny studied them carefully and then said, "Well, it looks like we know who was asking about me. And if I had to guess, I'd say he was more upset about the fact that I lived than he was that I was no longer at the hospital."

"So does this change anything?" I wondered.

"No," Cal stated calmly, having moved to read over Manny's shoulder. "You two are safer here than anywhere else."

As much as I hated being shut in this house, I knew he was right.

"Was there anything other than this?" Manny asked, having skimmed what I'd pulled on Juan already.

"No. Apparently he keeps a pretty low profile," I admitted, sorry that I couldn't do more.

Cal spoke up once more. "Bobby said he's probably not going to make it by today, either, so he wants you to call him if you have any questions, but he said that what he sent yesterday should cover you for a few days."

"Okay," I replied, looking at Manny and seeing that news didn't please him at all.

We chatted for a little while longer, until Cal said he had to go before he was here long enough to be noticed. We did a quick file swap as he left. When I shut the door behind him, I leaned against it for a few minutes and wondered how I would handle being locked in here for two more weeks. I was already feeling stir crazy, and we were barely a third of the way through our time here.

I allowed myself a few minutes to feel sorry for myself and then shook my head to get those kinds of unhelpful thoughts out. If Manny could handle it, basically stuck in a bed or chair, then I could handle being inside but able to move around.

When I walked back into the den, Manny was engaged in a stare off with the laptop. His hand was over his mouth, and his forehead was creased in concentration. I assumed he was looking at the information on Hernandez, so I tried to be quiet as I moved over to the most recent set of instructions Bobby had given for Manny's care.

There was no way to stop the startled jump my body gave when Manny spoke, surprising me that he was up for conversation. "I want you to do this."

I turned around to see him pointing to the computer and moved to stand beside him to see what he had found in the search that I'd missed.

On the screen was a document from WebMD that detailed how to safely remove a catheter.

"I want this damn bag gone," he said, obviously feeling a little stir crazy from being stuck in the bed like I was about being in the house.

"I don't think you want me to do that," I told him, trying to be the voice of reason. "It sounds like it could hurt, and I've never done it before." My eyes were skimming the directions, and phrases like "hold the penis in a downward trajectory" and "tug firmly" made my knees feel weak.

"There's a time to rest and let your body heal itself, and then there's a time to get off your ass and push your body back into shape. I'm well past the stage of lying around, so this has to go. If you don't do it, I'm going to," he threatened.

"I'll do it," I quickly responded. I could see him trying to do it, passing out halfway, and causing some kind of permanent damage to his penis, which would somehow be all my fault. I had enough things weighing on my conscious that I didn't think I could add erectile dysfunction to the list, too.

Manny pulled the sheet back, revealing himself completely to me. Out of habit, I turned away, not wanting to look at his naked body. Well, that might not be entirely honest. I _wanted_ to look, but I had enough 'Burg left in me that I knew it wasn't proper to drink in the sight of him without feeling more like Grandma Mazur than I was comfortable with.

"Let's get this over with," Manny bravely encouraged.

"I have to wash my hands," I stalled, practically running to the bathroom.

(np) I banged a few drawers as though looking for stuff while giving myself a pep talk that I could indeed do this. He was right; there was no reason for it to stay in now that he was capable of moving around. I found some scissors and pulled out the basin I'd used to bath him. Then I grabbed a clean towel, not sure what kind of mess I should expect.

Finally, I stared at myself in the mirror, trying to find the courage to go out there and yank a tube out of the penis of one of my coworkers. I didn't want to do it.

"I can't do this," I admitted quietly to the face in the mirror.

"Yes, you can," came that annoying voice that reminded me of Nagymama. "Child, can't has never been part of your world."

"Well, yanking things out of guys' penises has never been a part of my world, either, and that's what he wants me to do," I confessed, figuring that this was probably the last step prior to commitment for responding to the crazy voices in my head.

"He trusts you," she replied softly. "Trust is more fragile than a body."

"I have to do this," I whispered. "There's no one else here, and it needs to be done." The personal pep talk was working, so I stood up straighter, picked up the gear I'd pulled together, and walked out to Manny.

He half smiled and said, "I figured you were trying to come up with a way to tell me you weren't going to do it."

"I was," I blurted out, internally cursing my honest streak and inability to keep my mouth shut. "But I decided you'd probably try to do it yourself and screw it up, so if you're sure you want an accident-prone person who tends to screw up most things she touches anywhere near your crotch, tugging on stuff, then I'm up for the challenge."

He swallowed and opened his mouth, but no words came out at first. It took another gulp before he found his voice. "You can do it." He paused a moment. "You don't screw stuff up." He sounded more confident once he found something to argue about.

"Are you blind?" I wondered aloud. "How many times have you guys had to drop what you were doing because a skip got the better of me or something I owned or borrowed blew up, instantly combusted, or got torched in part or in whole?"

"Not the same thing as you screwing it up," he attempted to make a point while accepting my help in moving his legs so that he could sit on the edge of the bed.

"We can continue fighting about this later," I told him, needing to concentrate on what I was doing. "But I have a feeling if you weren't trying to talk me into something you wanted that you might be singing a different tune about my bad luck."

"There's a difference between bad luck and being a person who screws things up," he tried to correct me.

His confidence seemed to increase as I got him propped up and draped the towel over his legs. But when I turned back around with the scissors to cut the tubing, he tried to back up. I froze, giving him the chance to change his mind, but he shook his head and laughed a little nervously.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "Force of habit."

"I get it," I assured him as I picked up the tube in my left hand and positioned the scissors in my right. "Are you sure about this?"

"Positive." He seemed so confident that I decided to take him at his word. Just before I cut the tube, he moved to touch my hand and stopped me. "This is just between us, right?"

"What?" I wasn't sure if he was worried that I was going to start telling everybody about the size of his equipment or the vulnerable position he was in.

"I've never been awake when this has been done, and I'm guessing it's not exactly going to feel good, so I'm sorry in advance for anything I might say or do and hope that there won't be another surprise visit from Cal to put me in my place for what might come out of my mouth," he explained, putting my mind at ease.

"Relax," I assured him. "I'll keep Cal from overreacting, and there's no way I'll ever mention this again, so whatever you say or do isn't going to get out from me."

He nodded his head when I finished speaking, as though accepting my words, so I decided to move quickly before he got more nervous and did something to make me jumpy, too. I used my foot to position the basin at the edge of the bed on the floor and cut the tubing in a single smooth motion, dropping the piece from my hand into the container I'd slid into place. Then I put the scissors on the rolling tray and looked up at him.

"You'd better grab the edge of the bed," I warned him.

Before he could ask why, I found that storehouse of courage that so often eluded me, took his apparently scared manly part in my left hand, and firmly grabbed the remaining tubing in my right hand. Aiming downward to the basin on the floor, I tugged, surprised when it seemed to move only slowly at first. Once I gave it a steadier pressure, it slipped right out.

I forced myself not to look at Manny's face, unsure if it would reflect relief or pain. I dropped the part that had been inside him down into the basin with the rest of the catheter and then reached over for some alcohol swipes to clean all around the head of his penis. I hadn't read that it was necessary, but I felt the need to be sure he was clean, and this was the best way I knew to do just that.

"Ahh, Steph?" Manny asked, sounding uncertain and causing me to look up at him and pause the cleaning I had been doing and freeze in my current position.

"Are you okay?" I worried, searching for any sign of pain on his face.

"I think yes is the right answer to that question," he replied, looking down at where my hands were.

I followed his gaze and realized the previously shy male body part that had been attempting to hide from the threat of pain I must have represented was apparently enjoying the clean up, because it was quickly moving to give me more to work with. I jerked my hands away, unable to make my eyes move as well, amazed at how happy his body seemed to be to have the foreign object out of it based on the pride it seemed to be exhibiting as it stood alone.

"Are you okay?" he asked, repeating my question to him but not trying to hide the amusement in his voice.

"Yeah, I'm great," I replied, still staring at him.

"Was there something else you needed to do or document?" he prompted, most likely trying to figure out why I was staring at him with my bottom lip between my teeth.

I grew up in a house that was basically full of women. Sure, I had some males around in my Dad and my grandfathers, but for the most part, all my firsthand knowledge of the human anatomy had come from my experience around females. When I married Dickie, I'd attempted to get him to let me explore his body, and while he was a big fan of my face in his crotch, if my mouth wasn't actively engaged, he got self-conscious and refused to let me look at him. Joe would have been more than glad to let me explore, but it seemed that we always skipped from saying hello straight to what Joe referred to as balls-to-the-wall, wild monkey sex. After we were finished, Joe liked to sleep, and I usually felt the same way, so my chances to explore this unknown territory were not available to me.

The fact that this was really my first chance to truly look at this particular piece of plumbing was going to be my excuse for why I wasn't looking away.

"Is there a chance, now that I'm unhooked, you can find me some pants of some sort?" Manny prompted again, still sounding amused about something.

"Nagyapapa probably had something you could wear," I replied, letting him know he'd been heard. When my ears picked up on laughter, the true horror of what I was doing hit me, and I jerked my head up to look him in the eye and see the humor unhidden on his face.

"Oh my God, Manny, I'm so sorry. I had no right to stand there…staring at your…well, at you…I can't believe I just did that." My ramble button had been fully engaged, and if he hadn't laughed, I would have continued on indefinitely.

"No worries. I'm sure that wasn't something you wanted to do, and I'm going to assume you getting a little stuck at the end was because you were relieved to have it over and know that both of us survived it unscathed." Manny was giving me an out, which I gratefully accepted.

"I'm going to get rid of this and search for some pants that might work. Do you need underwear?" I was so anxious to get out of the den, I wasn't thinking about what I was saying.

My question only made him laugh harder. "No, just the pants will be fine."

Lack of sleep and the awkwardness of the situation was my excuse for my mouth reengaging when most people would have turned and exited the room. "What do you guys have against underwear?"

"Unnecessary, redundant layer of clothes as far as I'm concerned, but I can't speak for the rest of the guys," he replied before grinning at me, obviously enjoying my blabbering. "Why? How many of the guys' undergarment requirements are you up to date on?"

Once my brain made the connection that he was curious about how many of the guys I'd seen out of their pants, I turned even redder than I had been and basically ran to the bathroom, carrying the basin with the discarded medical supplies in it. Obviously I was still mortified, because I was able to dispose of the tubing in a medical waste bag from Bobby, sterilize the basin in case I needed to help him with another bath, and clean my hands before I even had a chance to be grossed out by what I'd just done.

Realizing he'd been teasing me made me smile. It might not seem like a big deal to an outsider, but considering that just twenty-four hours ago, he was being more difficult than a woman with PMS and no chocolate, I was thrilled at the turn in our conversation so far today, even if it was at my expense.

Of course, that didn't mean I had to take his teasing without any sort of retribution. I went into my great-grandparents' bedroom and began rummaging through the few clothes that remained. I found a couple of pairs of plaid cotton boxers that I figured could work in a pinch. They were elastic on the top, so he should be able to wear them without much worry about fit, and it would keep him from being naked. Then in the bottom drawer, I found some pajama bottoms that I remembered Nagyapapa wearing. They had a drawstring at the waist, so they might fit Manny, but the selling factor was the bright stripes that made up the material for the pants themselves. It looked like something a clown would discard as being too bright to wear near small children.

If he was going to attempt to make me feel foolish then I was going to return the favor by bringing him clothes that would give him a taste of his own medicine.


	12. Forward Progress

_JE created the characters below._

_Jenny (JenRar), once again, I owe you a huge debt of gratitude for your hard work as the beta on this story._

**Chapter 12 – Forward Progress**

Something about pulling a plastic tube out of a guy's penis tends to facilitate a bond, and over the last three days, Manny had slowly become easier to live with. He would still withdrawal from time to time, but I knew better than to push him to talk when he had that faraway look on his face. We'd gotten into a routine of sorts, where he'd have a smoothie for breakfast, we'd do his stretches and resistance exercises together before getting him up for a short walk, ending with him sitting in the easy chair until lunch. I'd fix us something simple for our mid-day meal and then help him hobble back to bed for a break. While he was resting there, I'd reclaim the easy chair and work on searches or other stuff Tank sent over via Cal each day.

A few of the files were ones the guys had tried everything to catch the skip and had been unsuccessful, so they were giving them to me in the hope I'd find something they couldn't. Because it was the entire file, I could read their field reports of surveillance and attempted takedowns, which I found absolutely fascinating. Strangely, reading a two page surveillance report was a lot more entertaining than sitting through the two-hour shift itself.

Occasionally, I had questions about abbreviations or procedures, not understanding why the guys did certain things and elected to not do others. Since my mouth had a mind of its own, I tended to say what confused me aloud, and Manny assumed it was a question for him, so he patiently explained RangeMan takedown procedures to me. Something about the whole process made me feel like I understood what happened when the guys went out in the field much better, and in the process showed me how much I didn't know. It was truly a wonder I'd survived this long in the business.

Bobby managed to sneak by for a quick visit in the early hours of the morning and declared Manny to be in incredible shape, obviously pleased with his progress. Bobby hadn't even tried to disguise what he was saying when he asked how I was holding up being locked in the house with Manny. I rolled my eyes at the memory of Bobby drugging Manny to knock him out and quickly pointed out that some of us were able to get along with others and didn't need to resort to medically bullying them. Bobby took the ribbing in his usual good-natured way, but he did give a lingering meaningful glare to Manny before leaving.

After I returned to the den, Manny seemed agitated and kept moving around. I knew that despite his progress, movement would still jar his injuries, so there was no way that degree of agitation was good for his body.

I didn't think through what I was doing but went over and touched his forehead and cheeks to check for a fever. He seemed normal to me, and I briefly let the thought filter through my head that I was treating him the way my mom used to treat me when I was sick and home from school.

He stopped moving as soon as I touched him and just looked at me. "Why are you doing this?" he asked when I dropped my hands, assuming whatever was bugging him wasn't a fever.

"What?" I was confused. "I thought you seemed worked up and wanted to be sure you weren't beginning to run a fever. Bobby said the biggest risk was still infection at this point."

"I'm fine." He waved off my concern and asked his question again. "Why are you doing all of this?"

"All of what?" I was still a little in the dark about exactly what was confusing him.

"Running searches for the guys, trying to figure out how we work, taking care of me, and standing up to Bobby on my behalf. There's no reason for you to be so involved…" I felt like there was more to what he was saying, but he'd wisely censured himself at that point.

"I run searches because I'm good at it. I'm naturally curious about things, so I tend to ask questions when there's something I don't know. I stood up to Bobby because you have been much nicer to me since Cal threatened to beat you up the last time." I couldn't help but smile at that memory. "And I'm taking care of you because you needed someone to do it, I was able to, and I like the thought that I'm helping somebody. Why? Would you like a different person to watch over you now that you're doing so well?"

"No," he quickly blurted out, leaving no doubt that his response was sincere.

It soothed the sting I'd felt when I briefly thought he was saying he didn't want me around him. I knew I wasn't a real nurse, but I had pushed through my own discomfort to do the very best I could for him.

While I was trying out my own version of a blank face, he spoke up once more. "I feel like I owe you an apology for being such a dick at first."

"Hmmm..." I pretended to remember our bumpy start. "Yeah, you weren't exactly living up to the gentleman code, were you?"

"And why do you do that?"

I blinked a few times, not sure what he was referring to this time.

He must have picked up on my continued confusion, because he added, "Why do you let people off the hook so easily? Don't most women enjoy giving guys the silent treatment or yelling and screaming at them?"

"I think I recall yelling at you," I reminded him, "but only when I thought you deserved it. There's no reason to scream now, and I've never been good at the silent treatment. I like to talk too much."

He took longer than I thought was necessary to consider my words. "So when you got the call that Ranger needed you to help with me, what made you pick this place to hide out?"

"That's a good question," I answered, wishing I knew what had popped the idea into my head, too. Not able to come up with something satisfactory, I tried changing the subject. "Why? You aren't enjoying staying in the color experiment house?"

"The pajamas have grown on me," he replied, looking at the gold and blue-striped pants he was currently wearing.

I had no memory of my great-grandfather in those pants, but I'd intentionally passed over the more conservative, solid color options and had only brought him the loud, outrageous clothes instead for my own amusement.

We chatted for a few more minutes, with me standing at the edge of his bed, and I wondered in another week or so, when this whole thing was over, if he would act any different around me when we saw each other at Haywood.

When the conversation settled down a little, I saw he was still moving more than usual, so I asked, "What's gotten into you today? Where's the famous RangeMan zone that allows you to be completely still for hours on end?"

"I'm getting antsy from being stuck in the house all day," he admitted, looking a little sheepish.

I glanced around, not seeing anything that I thought would make a suitable distraction until my eyes fell back on Manny. "How would you like to wash that hair?"

I'd mentioned it a couple of times over the last week, but we'd either gotten sidetracked, or I couldn't figure out how to manage it around his injuries, but Bobby had said he could move freely now using pain as his guide in what to avoid, so if he could stand bending over the kitchen counter, I could wash it in the sink.

"Damn, this is an all-time low, that I'm excited to get my hair washed in order to have something other than television as entertainment," he complained.

"I could always ask Cal to bring you a laptop of your own and a pile of searches. Can you imagine how happy Rodriguez would be to have two people totally devoted to fulfilling all his search requests?" I teased, pulling the covers all the way back and stepping to the side so Manny could sit up and put his legs off the edge of the bed.

He was leaning less and less on me every day, and I figured if we could just get him something long enough, he could probably make due with a cane or crutch, and then I wouldn't be necessary.

In the kitchen, he grimaced when he leaned over, but once he got his arms braced well in front of him, he seemed to be okay. That allowed me to take my time, and I scrubbed his hair twice before adding some of my finest conditioner and letting it soak in. I figured I'd taken more time than I should have, so I rinsed that out and let my fingers stroke his hair. I saw his good knee bend a little, so I took that as a sign that he needed to get out of this position. Turning off the water, I toweled his hair before helping him stand up.

I held onto him until it seemed he was stable and then asked if that felt any better. He gave me the sweetest smile, almost like he was too lazy to hold it back, which made me feel as though I'd just won the lottery. Then it hit me... Manny totally liked having his hair messed with. I was a big fan of having hands in my hair, but because of how outrageously crazy it was, I think most people tended to avoid running their fingers through it out of an irrational fear that something might be lurking in there that could hurt them.

"Why don't you sit in the easy chair, and I'll brush your hair out for you so that it dries right," I suggested, seeing the agreement on his face before he ever said a word.

He moved slowly but steadily back to the den and plopped down in the comfy chair, leaning up just enough that I could easily take care of his silky hair. I took my time running the brush through it and then followed up with fingers, wishing my own hair would cooperate like this just once and lay down so beautifully after doing nothing but washing it.

Once I figured I'd spent as much time as I could get away with playing in his unfairly perfect hair, I patted his shoulder and then sat on the shag carpet at his feet and stretched my head from side to side, pulling the muscles in my shoulders that were getting knotty.

"You okay?" Manny asked, not missing a detail in typical Merry Man fashion.

"I'm good," I assured him, "I've just got a few tight muscles that need to be stretched."

His lips drew tight, obviously not happy with my answer. "I'm too heavy to keep leaning on you."

"No, you're fine. It's a whole bunch of things really," I said, trying to talk him out of his first assumption about why I'd be sore.

He began to look around from his perch in the easy chair. "I need something sturdy that I can use to support some of my weight so that I'm not leaning as heavily on you. You don't have a cane or a crutch, do you?"

"I've got the walker in the closet," I reminded him, getting a grumpy growl as his obvious rejection of that idea.

"You said your great-grandfather used to work with wood. Do you have any of that?" he asked.

"Wood?" I was a little lost. "He had some boards in the basement from a project he'd begun but not finished.

"How do you know he was working on something and it wasn't just his storehouse of wood?" he asked, getting bolder in asking for personal details than he had been just a few days ago.

"It was on his workbench and completely smooth," I told him. "He'd sanded it down like silk before he would work on it."

"Did he work with machines or hand tools?" Manny asked.

"Both," I explained. "In the basement, he has some tools – mainly saws, presses, and a lathe – but he had his hand tool kit, which he used for carving and shaping things up here in the living room."

"How big is the wood in the basement?" He was looking more eager, and I noticed he was still for the first time today.

I used my hands to show him the diameter of the smaller pieces and described them as being about five feet long.

"Can you get one of them upstairs on your own?" he wondered, causing me to jump up and head down there, keen to do anything possible to keep him engaged and not so agitated like he'd been earlier.

It took a little wiggling to get the smallest piece upstairs, but when I got it to Manny, he smiled and said, "That will work." Then he asked about the hand tools.

I picked up the box from the living room and brought it to his other side. He lifted the lid slowly, as though he thought the greatest treasure was about to be disclosed. Something in his easy treatment of the tool box touched me.

"It's okay. Nagypapa would be pleased to think of someone using his tools, especially if he thought they knew what they were doing," I encouraged him.

And that was the exact moment I felt things between Manny and me shift. He heard me hint that he might not know how to use hand tools, and in response, he rolled his eyes. He might have been making fun of me, because that was definitely a go-to reaction of mine, but I had a stronger feeling that it was because he was insulted and had let his guard down enough to really show an emotional reaction around me.

I couldn't stop myself. I laughed out loud. "All right, tool man." I tried to appease him as I pulled myself together. "Have at it."

At that moment, the phone the guys gave me to use began ringing, so I jumped up to answer it. Tank was checking in to let me know that Ranger had called him this morning and told him that some questions had been asked about Manny and his wife. He didn't want me to worry, but it seemed as though the Hernandez family had a vested interest in the woman who took on the hospital administration to get her husband out of their care when he was so badly injured. He reminded me to stay out of sight, but he was confident we wouldn't be found until Ranger had eliminated the threat.

It took a while to get all that information from Tank, as he was initially content to just say, "Ranger checked in, and it may take a day or two longer than he last thought to clean everything up."

I, of course, thought there was more to it than that, so I had to hit him up with all sorts of questions until he finally gave in and spilled the whole story.

I'd glanced at Manny a few times while interrogating Tank and saw he was using a pencil in the tool box to sketch something out on the wood. He also seemed to be enjoying my side of the conversation with Tank, based on the slight smile on his face.

After I hung up, I came over to see if I could figure out what he was trying to do with the wood.

"You're like a dog with a bone, aren't you?"

His comment confused me until I saw him glance at the phone. "Ohhh, I just think Tank needs to work on his skills of communication, so anytime he tries to get away with just saying one word, I force him to use several in its place."

Manny worked on the hunk of wood, repeating some of the same motions I'd watched Nagypapa make years ago, but after four hours, I was worried about him staying in that position, so I suggested he take a break and stretch out in the bed. As though he needed a visual to go with the suggestion, I yawned and stretched at the same time.

He seemed to consider me, staring at me just long enough to make the room feel uncomfortable. "Let's see if there's a movie to watch," he suggested, allowing me to help him up and back to the bed positioned directly in front of the television.

Manny found an old Harrison Ford movie where he was helping to save the world from communists, and I took a seat in the now vacant easy chair. It wasn't directed at the television, so I had to turn my head to the side. After ten minutes of that, my neck was sore, and I was rubbing it, unable to watch the television. I attempted to move so that I was sitting sideways in the seat, but my back didn't have anything supporting it, so that wasn't comfortable, either. His bed took up the bulk of the floor space, which meant lying on the carpet was out of the question.

I was just about to give up and go stretch out in the bed down the hall when Manny spoke.

"If you can be still, why don't you get up here and sit next to me?" he offered. He wasn't pushing, but he'd seen my discomfort, and being a guy, that required he come up with a solution for it.

I was about to politely thank him for the offer but remind him that he was still sporting some serious injuries, which necessitated he continue to rest, but he made a hand gesture with his good arm and began shifting to the side so that he wasn't taking up the center of the mattress.

"It's not like I bite, and you're already immune to my bark, so you have nothing to worry about."

Seeing that he wasn't going to let this go, I gave up arguing, grabbed the cell phone so that I wouldn't have to jump up suddenly if it rang again, and walked over to carefully climb into the bed next to him. It was surprisingly big enough for us to sit side-by-side, as long as he didn't mind our bodies touching from our shoulders down to our legs.

He didn't pull back, but he did sit still for the first time all day, so I figured this might end up being good for him. Coming to that realization helped me to relax, and it didn't take long before the monotony of a movie I'd seen plenty of times before and the warmth of a strong body next to me lulled me to sleep.

I wasn't sure if I was dreaming or not, because I could have sworn that I heard Nagymama shushing me and telling me to just rest and not move. I obeyed, despite the fact that I could hear voices, neither of which sounded happy.

"You're lucky she's leaning on you, or I'd be hitting you right now," a voice that sounded remarkably like Cal threatened.

"Are you struggling to make your pickups lately so you have to resort to picking fights with guys in hospital beds?" Manny responded calmly, in a whispered tone.

"You're obviously not that injured. You managed to get a woman in your bed," Cal responded, not bothering to keep his tone soft the way Manny was.

"Piss off, man. She was exhausted, and all the sleeping she's been doing in that chair has her muscles in all kinds of knots. I knew she was only making it worse, so I talked her into sitting up here with me to watch a movie more comfortably, and then she fell asleep."

His explanation sounded logical to me.

"Right, and the fact that the television is off means…" Cal wasn't buying it.

"It means I'm not a complete asshole, and when I noticed she was asleep, I figured she needed the rest, so I turned it off to keep from waking her up," Manny explained, starting to lift his own voice in response to Cal's accusations. "Weren't you the one hitting me a few days ago for not treating her with the appropriate level of respect? Now that I'm being nice, you're still threatening to hit me. What gives?"

I thought it was a fair question.

"Now you're just taking advantage of her and trying to play the injured card to get her in your bed," Cal blurted out, making it really hard for me to continue pretending to sleep.

"I'm going to let that go since you and I go way back. You know me better than that. I was the one acting like an asshole to keep her from getting tangled up in my life, so there's no way I'd exaggerate a limp to get her to notice me just for shits and giggles," Manny defended himself once more.

"You keep bringing that up and I'm going to find a way to wipe your memory clean," Cal said, his voice almost making him sound embarrassed.

I'd faked my nap long enough that I worried I couldn't wake up now without giving myself away, so I couldn't risk a peek to see if Cal was blushing. He was one of the few really light-skinned guys at RangeMan, and we shared a tendency to turn red at the drop of a hat when embarrassed.

"What, you don't like the reminder of how you once had to fake an old war wound to get a girl interested in you?" Manny taunted.

Cal made a noise that made it clear he did not like the reminder, but Manny continued to talk.

"How about the fact that when the night was over, you forgot to keep limping, and she picked up on it and threw you out, keeping your uniform shirt. Then three days later, it was mailed to Ranger with a note that told him to keep his staff away from unsuspecting young women, especially if they were trying to impersonate real soldiers."

That was one memory too many for Cal to endure. "All right, man. I don't have to stand here while you stroll down memory lane. I was just dropping off more food and some new files for her. I'll take these old ones back, because they look done."

I could hear Cal moving around, and then he stopped at the edge of the den to say he would have the control room reset the alarm remotely. I guess that answered the question of how he'd managed to get in here in the first place.

"I don't want it to seem like every time I'm here, I'm riding your ass, but you are minding your attitude around her, right?" Cal made it sound like a question, but underneath, there was still a clearly spoken threat.

"She's sleeping on me, man. Obviously we're getting along," Manny replied, making a very valid point.

"Just be sure that's as close as you two get. She's been through enough shit in her life, especially with men. The last thing she needs is somebody like you confusing her even more," Cal warned, making me wonder what the _somebody like you_ comment was supposed to mean.

"Relax, big brother," Manny sarcastically replied, obviously accepting Cal's self-appointed position of a relation to me. "She's way too smart to let herself get involved with somebody like me. There are too many ghosts in my past for there to be room for anybody in my future."

While I appreciated what he meant, that he'd had more than enough relationships of his own bust up, I had to struggle to hold back the laugh that wanted to bubble out at the words he chose to use. I was, after all, seeing and hearing the ghosts of my long dead great-grandparents. I was hardly one to judge.

They rambled a little more, and then Cal made his way out. I wondered how long I needed to keep up the pretense of sleeping before I could wake up without Manny getting suspicious.

"Nosy bastard," Manny mumbled under his breath as soon as the door closed and the alert beeping began that signaled Haywood was resetting our alarm.

I had been happily pillowed with my head on his shoulder, but after he got his grousing over with, he lowered the back of the bed so that we were lying back more than sitting up. Then he moved his arm so that my head was resting against his chest and his arm was holding me to him. Two things hit me at once. First, Manny had a great and unexpectedly comfortable chest. And second, I had no desire to pretend to wake up anytime soon.

I felt him taking long, deep breaths and was amazed at how the tension began to ebb from his body. Once he was relaxed, he spoke so quietly, I knew he didn't believe I was awake to hear him. "You sleep now, Steph. You've watched over me long enough. Now it's time for me to step up."

Strangely, I could have sworn I heard a different male voice reply, "It's not about turns. You do what you want because you want to do it. She doesn't want you to act loving... She wants you to _be_ loving."

Manny's chest vibrated, like he was holding in laughter. "Shit, I'm losing my mind," he spoke to himself, echoing my own thoughts of late. Then he addressed the voice I'd heard and replied, "I know nothing of loving. I only know loss."

"Then learn with her. She is the same," the voice I thought was Nagypapa instructed.

"We're nothing alike," Manny disagreed.

"You are virtually the same," Nagypapa pointed out. "She has tried to be what many have wanted and lost part of herself in the process. The man that can draw that piece of her back out will find the rarest of treasures."

I guess Manny was as confused by the riddle as I was, because he asked, "What would I find?"

"A woman who loved him," Nagypapa responded, "And a woman to love in return."

"Who are you?" Manny blurted out, obviously not recognizing the voice the way I had from my past.

"Someone who learned this lesson the hard way and wants to save you the trouble. Besides, I love that child and want the best for her," Nagypapa replied cryptically, avoiding the actual answer to Manny's question.

"If that's true, you shouldn't be pushing me to be with her," Manny pointed out. "There are plenty of men who could offer her a much more stable life."

The most beautiful laughter filled my ears, and I was sad when it died out. "That child has never wanted a stable life. Why would I want to force that on her? Besides, you are obviously a man of great courage."

This time, it was Manny's turn to chuckle. "Courage? You obviously don't know me."

"No, but I know Laney, and that's enough for me." Before Manny could ask a question about how my great-grandfather knew his sister, Nagypapa added, "Besides, who else but a brave man would dare to wear those pants?"

"These were your pants," Manny said in defense of his fashion statement.

"They were in my drawer, but I never had the courage to wear them."

With that final taunt, I felt his presence leave, and as Manny's chest vibrated with laughter, he drew me closer to him and then whispered against my hair, "Shit, Steph... You come from a family crazier than mine."

It didn't sound like an insult, so I let him hold me to him, and after having pretended to sleep for so long, it seemed like a good idea in reality, so I let the darkness take over once more.


	13. A Little Friendly Advice

_A big thank you to JE for creating the wonderful characters below for me to play with._

_Jenny (JenRar) thank you isn't sufficient for the work you've done as the beta on this story._

**Chapter 13 – A Little Friendly Advice**

"Steph, wake up." Manny was shaking me, and his voice was cutting through the wonderful dream I'd been having, where Nagymama was baking fresh bread. It was so real, I could swear I smelled it, and I was just about to take a bite drenched in softened butter, but Manny wasn't letting up and the image slipped out of my subconscious.

"What?" I blurted out, perhaps a little on the grouchy side, forcing my eyes to open just so that my glare would be more effective.

"Someone is here," Manny said, nodding to the door.

I didn't see anyone and was about to tell him to go back to sleep because he'd obviously dreamed it. But before I could find the words, I heard a key in the door, as though someone were having trouble getting it in the lock.

Manny handed me the cell phone and said, "Get in the basement and call the control room. No matter what, don't come out until you hear the guys respond."

"No," I replied flatly, as though we had time to argue the point. I hit a speed dial on the phone and put it to my ear before explaining, "I'll call the guys, but I'm not leaving you out here to fight whoever that is alone."

"You can't sacrifice yourself for me," he argued.

"Then you'll understand when I say the same thing to you," I countered. "You don't know who that is, and for all we know, it could be someone here for me, not you."

"Not likely," he disagreed, pulling out the Glock that was attached to his cast and aiming it at the door.

The control room answered, and I jumped in and explained what was going on before they could get the name of the company out fully. Luckily, Lester was the one taking the call, and he had me hold on while he checked the camera they had at the door.

He started laughing just as the front door swung open. Manny disengaged the safety on the gun and used his head to indicate that I should stay behind him.

"I think you can put the gun down," I warned him as the eighty-plus-year-old body of Grandma Mazur appeared in the doorway.

"Can you kill the alarm?" I asked Lester, who was still snickering into the phone.

"Sure, Beautiful. I can handle it." He laughed once more before asking, "Is Manny still in a hospital gown?"

"No, why?" I knew I probably shouldn't encourage him, but I'd missed being around the guys and was curious as to what he was thinking.

"Because your grandmother would have a field day with Manny's ass swinging in the breeze," Les barely got out around his obvious amusement.

"I'll pass the message along," I told him, hanging up, just to show him how it felt to have someone be that rude to you on the phone.

Manny lowered his gun, put the safety back on, and shook his head.

Grandma Mazur just grinned as the unmistakable sound of her clicking her dentures the way she liked to when she was having a good time filled the room. "Don't put that away on my account. I would've come back here a lot more often if I'd known there was a bed with a half naked man who knew how to use his big gun like that."

I was still behind Manny, on my knees on the mattress. He leaned back into me, his head still hanging down, and whispered, "I'm pretty sure I'm going to be sick."

I assumed he was serious, that the adrenaline and the medication and lack of activity had all worked together to leave him nauseous and shaken. "I'll get you a trash can," I told him, turning to move.

Manny grabbed my hand and looked up at me. "No, I'm not really sick. Just hearing her talk like that…" He shivered instead of finishing his sentence.

That these big tough guys were afraid of a little old woman never ceased to make me laugh.

"Come on, tough guy," I told him, patting his shoulder. "I'll put the rails up on your bed so she can't climb up here with you."

Not once in the time I'd been around Manny had we used the rails on his bed. He was in no condition to even attempt rolling over with the casts and bruising, but when I mentioned them as a level of defense, he nodded, agreeable to the suggestion. After getting him settled, I asked if he needed anything.

Manny's eyes cut to Grandma Mazur first, and then he asked, "Can I use the tools and work with the wood from yesterday?"

"Sure," I agreed, bringing a towel over first and laying it across his lap in the hope of catching the shavings and dust so that I didn't have to change the sheets again. I got him all set up and turned around in time to see Grandma Mazur grinning at me.

"I can see why you wanted to be locked in here alone. A man that knows how to use his tools is something worth hiding," she commented with a cackle, as though her wit was too funny to contain any longer.

I could have sworn that Manny whimpered, but I knew that bad ass guys didn't make pitiful sounds like that, so I must have been mistaken.

"Come on, Grandma. Let's have some tea in the kitchen." With that, I swept her away from Manny, figuring he was still recuperating and the stress of being around my family might set his recovery back if I didn't intercede.

Once we were out of Manny's immediate presence, she settled down and looked at me. Most people look at my grandmother and see a flamboyant personality too crazy to get close to. I'm pretty sure that was all a part of her master plan, because underneath was a truly amazing woman. Unfortunately, part of that amazing woman included the ability to read people with an alarming accuracy, and I could feel her watching me intently while I busied myself putting on a kettle and selecting the right blend of tea.

"How's the house?" she asked, surprising me that she'd elected to begin so harmlessly. Usually Grandma Mazur jumped into the deep end in conversations. She said it was because she was too old to waste time on small talk and pleasantries and didn't want to keel over before the conversation turned to what she referred to as the "good stuff."

"It's like I'm staying in the Twilight Zone. Everything is just like I remember it, except the windows being boarded up makes it seem like it's on a sound stage for a movie instead of it being real," I explained.

"Anything unusual happen since you've been here?" She was using her innocent voice, so I knew she had something specific in mind.

"What do you mean, unusual?"

"My parents loved this house, and they loved you," she started as she rose to go to a set of canisters on the cabinet and pulled out one that contained various leaves and nuts. "This place was where they concentrated their life and their love, and if they thought you needed help, it wouldn't surprise me if they tried to give you what they thought you needed."

"You mean, like ghosts?" I didn't want to tell her about the voices and dreams yet.

"No, child," she replied with a smile, using the term her parents had always used for me. "Ghosts implies that the people who died didn't want to leave and move on. My parents had nothing to fear, so they wouldn't be here all the time with a shell of their body to try to spook you into doing things."

I decided not to argue the point. I had been taught enough respect to know better than to fight with my elders.

"But my parents were always drawn to love, and if they felt love here, they would want to do whatever they could to help you have what they had," she explained.

"How would they help?" I wondered, hoping she would say something to keep me from feeling like I was losing my mind.

"It's different for every person," Grandma Mazur explained. She was quiet so long, I figured she wasn't going to say any more, but then her eyes narrowed, and I knew she was remembering something. "When Grandpa died, I came back here, wondering if I could make it without him. I missed him."

I reached out and put my hands on top of hers. She rarely spoke of her husband, and seeing the look in her eyes now, I could see his memory still hurt. I guess the fact that she tried to live as though he didn't exist was proof that my ability to live in denial was inherited from her and not something I'd created on my own.

"At first, I would see them in my dreams, and we'd talk just like we used to when they were alive," she explained, duplicating my experience. "Then when I would come by and talk to myself, I could swear I heard them respond – giving advice the way parents like to with their children."

"Did you ever hear from Grandpa?" I wondered. It seemed logical to me that if her parents could reach her that her husband should be able to, as well.

"No." She smiled at that question. "But this wasn't his house, so if I wanted to go to a place where our love was concentrated, it wouldn't have been here. My father made him nervous."

I nearly laughed out loud at that. "How could Nagypapa make anyone nervous?" I wondered, picturing the kind old man, molding wood with his hands and speaking only kind words to anyone he encountered.

"Can you picture your father being cruel to someone?" she challenged.

I tried – honestly tried – to imagine him yelling at a guy, but failed completely. "No, he doesn't have a mean bone in his body."

Grandma smiled at me and asked, "Did you know Steve came to the 'Burg about two weeks after Valerie came home with the girls?"

"Steve?" I hadn't heard that, and I wondered why it had been kept from me.

"Yep. I answered the door and said his name in greeting, but before I could ask what the sleazeball that cheated on my granddaughter wanted, Frank was practically pushing me out of the way to get right up in Mr. Hollywood's face. I couldn't hear everything he said, but when he finished talking, Steve nodded and then turned and practically ran away," she reported with a small smile.

"Why didn't Dad let him in? He might have been there to reconcile with Valerie." I couldn't figure this out.

"No, child..." Grandma Mazur squeezed my hand. "He was there to hand her divorce papers so that he could rush the process and run off legally with the babysitter. Once your dad realized that, he ran him off and threatened to be sure Steve didn't have the necessary equipment to run off with the babysitter if he ever stepped foot on his property again. There is something about a father that makes him protect his daughter. You may not see it as possible until the time comes, and then it just explodes. Your grandpa and Nagypapa got along beautifully, but there were just enough moments of Nagypapa asserting how he felt about the man taking his baby away from him that kept Grandpa from thinking of this house as the place he could fully relax." She laughed when she stopped talking, which made me think there was more to the story, but I got the feeling I shouldn't push for it right then.

"Now, tell me what they've been telling you." She looked at me with an expression that said pretending that I hadn't heard from them would be useless.

I let out a breath and finally decided to just admit to it, and I'd use Grandma's reaction to see if I was losing my mind or not. Of course, this plan was sort of like taking an exam, knowing in advance that it was being graded on a very generous sliding scale. Using Grandma's point of reference for a sanity test gave me a lot of wiggle room.

"Mainly it has been encouragement when I was feeling like I wasn't making a difference, but there were a couple of dreams where Nagymama talked to me about Manny, too." I didn't want to explain the rocky start to our time here.

Grandma's eyes narrowed, and then she said, "Let me guess. He was stubborn and fought you about what he should and should not do while you're locked up here."

"Something like that," I agreed, figuring it was close enough.

"Is it getting better?" she asked, her trademark grin coming back.

For some inexplicable reason, my face decided it needed to be redder, so I blushed at her question, encouraging her to push a little more.

"It is, but you wish it were better still, right?"

"Grandma!" I cringed at how much I sounded like my own mother when she scolded me.

That response earned me a good laugh. "I brought you some food from your mother," she abruptly changed the subject.

"What does she know?" I blurted out, worried now that Mom would show up, too.

"Relax." Grandma patted my hand once more. "I told her you were here with your husband and that he had been injured and was in danger. So the only way for you to survive long enough for her to meet her new son-in-law was for her to stay away until the danger had been resolved."

The tea sprayed out of my mouth before I could attempt to hold it in. "You said what?" I knew I was nearly screeching at my grandmother, but I couldn't stop myself.

"She took it very well," Grandma explained. "Sometimes if you tell the truth just right, people assume you are lying and choose to believe something else entirely. In the end, she won't be able to get mad at me, because she'll realize I told the truth."

"What?" I knew I needed to calm down, but it never boded well when Grandma tried to be sneaky, and this had huge blowup written all over it.

"Helen assumed that you had gotten yourself into some kind of trouble with that job of yours and that one of the studly men you often bring around the house is assigned to protect you." That explanation did sound a lot more likely and easier to talk my way out of. "Of course, she did see lots of possibilities for you to perhaps come out of this with someone who could be husband material, so she sent the food along, hoping to help."

Leave it to Mom to try to win me a husband by feeding him well.

"What's wrong?" Manny's strained voice came from the edge of the kitchen, nearly scaring me to death.

"Manny!" I screeched, jumping up to rush to his side. "What are you doing walking on your leg?"

He nodded at the wood in his hand that was a rough version of what I assumed would be a cross between a long cane and a short crutch that he could lean on easily once it was finished. "I'm not walking on my leg," he corrected. "But you seemed upset, and I wondered if something was going on that I needed to be aware of."

His color was off, telling me this walk to the kitchen to help me if I needed it had come at a high cost to him. Despite the rough crutch to lean on, he was still hurting.

"Silly man," I said, pushing his hair back from his face and realizing he probably wished for a hair tie to pull it back the way he always wore it at RangeMan.

Grandma was strangely silent during our brief encounter and didn't make a single comment, which probably should have made me nervous.

"Do you want some help getting back to the den?" I asked.

"That depends," he replied, obviously not easily distracted. "What had you worked up a minute ago?"

Grandma took that as an invitation to speak up. "I was just catching up on news from home, and something I said caught her young ears off guard." She winked to press her point a little further.

Then she opened her purse and pulled out a mass of cables. "I also brought these in case you decide to do laundry while you're here." She held out the black wires, expecting me to take them. "One of these is the power cable for the washer, and another is for the dryer, but I don't know which is which."

There had to be a dozen cables of various sizes, which meant I'd need to try them all to find the right ones. As much as I wasn't looking forward to crawling around in the basement to get to the back of the appliances, I did need some clean clothes, so I double checked that Manny was balanced and then took the cables from her hand.

"I need you to check them now while I wait, because the ones that don't work here are probably for your father's tools, and it would be my luck that he'd decide to work on something in the garage while I had his power cables." Grandma sounded perfectly reasonable, but I couldn't help but feel that she was playing me.

Manny didn't seem to doubt the story being given.

"Are you okay for me to disappear for a while in the basement?" I asked, trying to warn him that he'd be alone with the woman he seemed to fear.

"I'm good," he replied, short but not unkind.

My offer to help him get settled somewhere was brushed away, and he repeated that he would be fine, so I went downstairs to untangle the mess Grandma had brought, in the hope of having some clean pants to wear tomorrow. It took awhile to get the ball of cables sorted, and then I had to move the washer to be able to see behind it. After shoving, kicking, and groaning, it finally moved enough for my hand to fit, and then I realized the cord was attached to it already. It just wasn't plugged into the wall. Since I'd moved the machine, I was able to reach the cable and pull it up to plug it in. Learning from my mistake with the washer, I groped around blindly behind the dryer until my hand felt something similar to a cable, and then I pulled it up. The dryer power cord was also attached, so I plugged it in and decided the washer was fine pulled away from the wall, mainly because I didn't want to go through the trouble to move it again.

I looked at all the wires I'd sorted out and realized Grandma Mazur had totally played me. It should have pissed me off, because I hated feeling like I'd been lied to, but for some reason, the fact that she'd gone through all that trouble made me smile instead. I gathered the cables and moved up the stairs slowly. On the third step, it hit me that she had orchestrated this big rouse to get rid of me, which meant she was no doubt interrogating poor Manny. I wanted to rush up to his defense, but something cool on my shoulder felt like it was holding me back.

So instead of rushing up and interrupting, I tiptoed and listened from the top stair to the voices from the kitchen.

Manny was in mid-sentence, "Then why wouldn't you stay here?"

"Are your parents still alive?" Grandma asked him.

"No, they died a few years ago," Manny confessed, a little quietly for him. "But until then, they lived in New York, where I grew up, so I got to see them pretty often."

"Would you have wanted to live with them?" Grandma pushed her point.

"God, no," he quickly replied, before attempting to soften it. "Not that I didn't love them, but once I got out on my own, I just preferred to live my life without their advice and suggestions constantly being thrown at me."

"And that's exactly why I didn't want to move back here," Grandma explained. "Every time I came here, I felt and heard them. It was wonderful because I could come when I needed them, but when I left, they stayed here, and I could live my life by own rules."

"Why didn't you want Stephanie to stay here when she got married?" Manny had asked a great question that time.

"Never liked that sleaze ball," Grandma quickly told him. "Never trusted him not to try to take the house, and I knew my parents would never forgive me if I'd allowed that. Plus, I knew they wouldn't last, and I didn't want my parents to pick up on it and attempt to break them up. I knew that dick would screw it up on his own. I just had no idea he'd do it literally."

For some reason, Manny hadn't heard the whole story, so Grandma took her time in telling him about my first marriage and its disastrous ending, complete with the media circus divorce. I couldn't stop the satisfied smile when Manny had some choice words for my ex-husband after hearing what had happened. I knew down deep that it wasn't my fault, but it was nice to hear it stated so clearly by a neutral party to be sure the self doubt didn't creep back in.

"Why are they interested in helping us, then?" Again, it was a great question.

The clicking of Grandma's dentures made me slightly nervous. "My guess is my mother took one look at you and thought you two would make beautiful babies, and my father took one look at her and saw that she had changed."

"Changed how?" Manny wondered.

"For five generations, my family has been single child families. After Valerie was born, we all assumed Helen was done with children, too. Then she unexpectedly announced she was pregnant with a second child, and Stephanie was born. From the moment she entered the world, she was special. She was a handful that probably aged her mother at an alarming rate, but despite that, her great-grandparents adored her. Everything from her curly hair to her wild spirit reminded them of their family back in Hungary, and they believed she was destined to live a gypsy life."

I sat down on the top step, not wanting to interrupt, because I'd never heard this before.

"Doesn't that mean she was destined to live alone?" Manny asked, obviously liking the distraction of this story as much as I did.

"You know nothing of gypsies, do you?" Grandma teased. "They hate rules, being tied down with expectations and laws. They answer to just a single governing principal – love. When they love, they do so deeply, and it guides every action, every decision. So when they said she was destined to live a gypsy life, I can see the truth of it. She loves everyone, goes out of her way to do what she feels is the very best she can for everyone, yet when somebody tries to assert a power over her, to tell her how she should live or what is the right and proper thing to do, every part of her rebels against it."

"So she isn't looking for marriage and a few kids with a white picket fence?" Manny quoted what I knew Ranger had always assumed I would want as well.

I felt myself shiver at the implication that I should somehow want that for myself.

Grandma laughed. "Not because it is what her mother wants for her. If the man she loved asked her to marry him, I can assure you they'd have a passionate life together. If they had children, she'd devote her life to giving them a wonderful and happy childhood. And if she took a house, I'm sure it would feel like a home quickly, because she would fill it with love, and everyone who came in would feel it right away."

There was silence for a few minutes before Manny asked, "Why would your father want to encourage me with her if the fire he loved in her wasn't as bright?"

"I'm guessing it's because he saw her come alive in some way when she was around you. If he thought you could bring that spark back to her then he won't give up until you bring our girl back," Grandma explained.

"Where has she gone that you think she needs to come back from?"

"She's not gone far, but she seems to have forgotten the way." Grandma was sounding more and more like her parents with every riddle she spoke.

"What makes you think I know the way?" Manny challenged.

I heard Grandma Mazur tapping him and pictured her palm hitting his cheek playfully. "Alone, I don't think either of you do. But if you only guide her to places that you feel are best for her in love, and she only guides you to places she thinks are best for you in love, then you will stay on the right path together."

"What makes you think we can love each other?" he blurted out, sounding a little stricken at the idea. "Just a few days ago, she yelled at me and called me a name I'd rather not repeat."

I put my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing at that.

More patting from Grandma happened before she spoke. "I'm sure you gave her good reason to. I said you would have a passionate life – I never said she would bow to whatever you wanted. Loving a gypsy is like trying to hold the wind. You can exhaust yourself trying to catch it and fail every time, because it's not something you can hold. Once you learn to just stand still and let it blow over you, then you can learn to live with the moods and the changes as they shift."

"Can I ask you something else?" He sounded amused, which was a relief, because I was still totally confused by her last answer and was glad she hadn't spooked him even more. Apparently, she let him know it was all right to keep going, because he asked, "Is the crazy old woman routine an act, or are you really that outrageous?"

Grandma laughed out loud, cackling and hitting the bar with her hand. Obviously she'd enjoyed that question, and it didn't escape my notice that she never really answered it. Instead, after she pulled herself together, she said, "If you decide you aren't up to the challenge of my granddaughter, come see me. I won't make you work nearly as hard for it, and I think we could have a lot of fun."

There was a crack in Manny's voice when he attempted to respond that told me I'd eavesdropped long enough. "Ahh…Mrs. Mazur, I think if I can't keep up with Stephanie, there's no way I could keep up with you."

"Aren't you a hot ticket," she replied as I came into the room and handed her the neatly organized cables.

"Did one of these work?" she asked with a grin and a wink.

"I've got them plugged in and ready to go," I replied, knowing she was fully aware of the fact that she'd made up that errand to get me out of the room, but I didn't think confessing it to Manny was the right move.

She stood up, crammed the cables into her purse, and began walking out of the kitchen. When she stood in front of Manny, she patted his cheek once more and told him, "There is no controlling the wind, but to someone who knows how to appreciate it, it can bring many good things."

His eyes narrowed, as though he were trying to figure out what in the hell she was talking about. I felt the same way, so I didn't bother interrupting.

As she hugged me, she whispered, "I like him. Give him a chance, and I think you could be happy."

I pulled back and said, "Grandma," meaning it to be a warning that her meddling wasn't helping. This was a guy I was only pretending to be married to and who was a co-worker that could barely stand me until a few days ago. While I appreciated her talking to him and coming by, especially with food from my mother, I didn't want to encourage her in case she got her hopes up.

I walked her to the door and smiled when she turned back and called out, "Szeretlek Mama a Papa."

With a kiss on my cheek, she turned and walked out.

As soon as I shut the door, I heard that familiar voice reply, "We love you, too."


	14. Dream Weaver

_The brilliant JE created the characters I'm playing with below._

_Jenny (JenRar) thank you for patiently reviewing and correcting my many errors in this story as the beta._

**Chapter 14 – Dream Weaver**

"Will you keep your hand still?" I asked Manny, trying to see if the splinter in his hand was at the surface so that I could get it out with tweezers.

"Man, if you are this much of a wuss over having a little splinter taken out, I can't imagine how you've managed to survive with your other injuries too," Cal teased.

We'd spent an hour talking and letting Cal catch us up on life in the outside world. I'd noticed Manny was flexing his fist, even though he was laughing at the fact that Vince just lost his RangeMan SUV when he stopped by to pick up Mooner for me and somebody on the street noticed and stole the car. Of course they got it back, but now the guys were picking on him that he'd gotten my vehicle curse, and they all refused to let him drive when they were partnered with him.

I'd gently pulled Manny's hand up so that I could look at it, and he'd allowed me to take it without resisting at all. The splinter had been easy to find, so I'd jumped up and gotten tweezers and a needle in case I needed to pull the skin back or lift the wood to pull it free. Unfortunately, the moment he saw the sewing needle, he'd yanked his hand back and looked like a kid being faced with a vaccination visit to the doctor's office.

"If you sit still and let me get this out, I'll heat up some of the leftovers my mom sent over yesterday," I said, trying to bribe him.

Cal brought up my grandmother, the way all the guys did – with fear and trembling. As soon as I saw Manny stick up for her, I knew he was sufficiently distracted, so I swooped in and got the splinter out, holding it in the tweezers and whistling at the size of it.

"How did you get that?" I asked, worried that it could continue happening.

"I hadn't sanded the wood while I was working on the cane, so when I rubbed against the grain I caught a rough spot and it lifted into my hand," he confessed, flexing it a few more times to be sure it felt better. "Thanks," he said, looking me in the eye to better make the point that he appreciated my help. I patted his good leg before hoping off the bed and keeping my promise to heat up food for us to eat.

I pulled out dishes and smiled at the fact that my mom had cooked Chicken Paprikash. There was enough here to feed an army, so I stuck my head back in the den and invited Cal to stay, an offer he seemed more than happy to accept.

While I worked in the kitchen, I couldn't help but listen in on the guys' conversation, especially when Cal blurted out, "What have you done to her?"

Manny seemed offended. "What are you talking about, man? She's humming in the kitchen. Why am I getting shit for her being happy?"

"No, not for her being happy. It's like it's her, but it isn't."

"What are you talking about?" Manny pushed, still not sounding sure what Cal meant.

"I've pulled plenty of Bomber duty shifts, and I've never seen her cook before, and now she's flitting around in the kitchen like Martha Stewart."

"First of all, she's not cooking; she's heating up leftovers cooked by her mother," Manny explained, making a valid point in my book. "And secondly, she's not flitting around. You'd better watch your mouth, man; I don't think she'd appreciate the comparison."

"And why did she sit beside you in the bed?" Cal followed up.

There was a pause, as though Manny didn't know how to respond. "You're sitting in the chair," he finally offered as a defense. "The couch is covered with medical shit to take care of my sorry ass," he pointed out, "and I told her she could watch a movie up here yesterday and we fell asleep. Ever since then, I've been hanging out on one side, and she's been taking the other side. Don't make a big deal out of it."

"I'm not," Cal defended. "But you're treating that bed like it's huge, talking about sides. It's barely a twin. You can't tell me it's comfortable to have both of you squeezed together like that."

"It's not uncomfortable, and it keeps her from having to turn her neck to see the television," Manny responded, using a line that sounded weak even to my ears.

There was dry laughter before Cal said, "Look I'm not blind, and I can see something is going on here. You are big on personal space, so you being cool with her up there next to you is a big deal. You're the guy who will change treadmills if somebody takes the one next to you, just because you like your space, remember?"

Fortunately, the food was warm by that point, so I plated it up and carried some out to both of them.

When I turned to walk back to the kitchen, Manny called out, "Where are you going? Why aren't you eating, too?"

The smile appeared on my face before I could stop it, and a quick glance at Cal from the edge of my eye showed me he'd picked up on it, too. "I'm just getting my plate; I'll come back and eat with you."

Manny relaxed then, so I went into the kitchen, wondering if I should be worried about the fluttering in my stomach.

"No, you should enjoy it," came the giggling whisper of Nagymama.

"It's not real," I replied, trying to remind myself that this was not reality and I shouldn't read too much into anything here because once we were released from the prison of this house, things would change, so I couldn't let myself grow accustomed to it now.

"It could change for the better," her voice entered my thoughts once more.

Deciding now was not the time to argue with the voice in my head, I picked up my plate and water bottle and headed back out.

Their conversation about where I'd been sitting was still fresh in my mind, so I moved a few things on the couch, intending to sit there so that Cal wouldn't read anything into my location.

Before I could make a spot, Manny asked, "What are you doing?"

I looked at the folder with his care directions that was in my hand and then back up to him, assuming it was obvious.

"Get up here," Manny said, patting the mattress beside him.

"Haven't you heard? The patient is always right," Cal said.

"I thought it was the customer," I corrected, moving to sit on the bed. I elected to plop down at the foot instead of leaning against the head beside Manny. This gave us a degree of separation but still allowed me to see him if he needed anything.

We went through all the leftovers Grandma Mazur had dropped off and talked for what felt like hours before Cal stood up and stretched, announcing that he had to go. I walked him to the door, and once he was certain we were out of earshot, he pulled me to him for a quick hug and asked, "Are you and Manny…?"

The question hung out there, and I refused to assume to know what he was talking about and risk embarrassing myself. Besides, if he was trying to figure out why the dynamic between Manny and me had shifted, his guess was as good as mine.

Seeing that I wasn't going to say anything, he smiled and kissed my forehead. "All right, keep your little secrets, but the truth always comes out eventually."

I shut the door behind him and leaned against it to mumble, "I'm sure you're right," not entirely sure I wanted the truth to come out in this situation. My fear was that this time, reality would come crumbling down once Ranger finished his work and made it secure for Manny to be back out again.

When I walked back into the den, Manny was sanding his cane again, giving it a final once over. He'd worked the stick part down to a round column and had carved designs around it. At the top, instead of a knob or a single handle, it was shaped more like a triangle so that his hand would go in the hole in the middle as he gripped the top. I was amazed at how sturdy it looked, and because it was made from a hard wood, I knew it could take his weight and give him more independence than leaning on me allowed, without taking away his pride the way a walker would have.

He looked up and caught me watching him, so I decided to just admit I was staring and not try to hide the obvious fact. "I can't believe how quickly you did that, especially with just one fully functional hand."

He shrugged. "I haven't worked much with wood lately, but my dad did it all the time. He was a master carpenter by day, but a woodworker for pleasure by night. I guess I got his love of this from him. There's something about watching something take shape slowly under your hands that makes me want to keep working."

"Ah, the boy understands," Nagypapa seemed to respond.

Hearing the approval from my great-grandfather put me on edge, so I felt the need to change the subject. "I'm going to work on some of the files Cal brought me."

When I came back to the den, I moved to the easy chair to resume my perch there while making Rodriguez's life much easier by doing his dirty work for him.

My rear end hadn't even begun its descent to the cushion before Manny patted the mattress and said, "Come on up here." He must have seen my indecision, because he added, "The game will be on in fifteen minutes; you can watch them play while you're waiting for the searches to run."

Apparently, I was easy to convince, because I immediately caved and moved to sit at his side. For the next few hours, I split my attention between the Rangers game and the searches on the laptop. Manny seemed to be doing the same thing and would occasionally ask questions about what I was doing and why I was looking up other people or places. There was an eagerness to understand the method behind my madness that had been annoyance the first time he'd attempted to see a search the way I did. Something had definitely changed between us this past week, and even though I knew it wouldn't go beyond this house, I liked the way it felt at the moment.

Long after my work was finished, the game was over, and he'd put the toolbox away, we were still talking. It wasn't until I yawned that he softly said, "Why don't we call it a night? You're exhausted, and we can talk some more tomorrow."

I nodded and moved to get up.

"What are you doing?" he asked when I didn't just relax beside him.

"Going to bed, like you said," I explained, confused by his outburst.

Manny's good hand lifted and moved slowly, the way a person would approach an injured animal trying to be sure they were proving themselves to not be a threat. I felt my breathing rate increase, and my heart was definitely pounding faster as my eyes focused on the hand coming closer to my face by the second.

The tips of his fingers picked up a curl that had fallen across my fact when I jerked my head back to him, and he lifted it and tucked it behind my ear. A tiny jolt – like static electricity, only more tingly than shocking – went through my scalp when he touched me and convinced my hair to stay back.

"Stay," he said softly once more. "Don't…go."

I swallowed and looked into his eyes. I could see that this meant a lot to Manny, and after Cal's words earlier about Manny usually wanting his own space, I had a feeling it was significant. I also knew that it wasn't something we could talk about. I could shake my head and go to the colorful room alone, and he wouldn't press the point, but if I did that, I wouldn't be welcome up here beside him again. If I shot him down now, when he was allowing himself to be vulnerable, then he would board up the weak place in his defenses and never allow me to peek through again.

With that thought, I didn't really have a decision to make; I nodded that I would stay and shifted so that we could both be more comfortable. When he lifted his arm, I rested my face against his shoulder and let the warmth of his body soothe me straight to sleep.

I knew I was dreaming because I felt like I was floating and then found myself landing in the garden behind the house. My great-grandparents were there already, and right behind me was Manny. He was walking perfectly without any effects from his injuries, so there was a second piece of evidence that this was all in my head.

"The children are here," Nagymama announced, smiling at us.

Manny's hand was on my back, guiding me closer without feeling like I was being pushed along.

"You know we aren't children," I corrected her with a smile, keeping my tone respectful, even if my words were challenging.

Nagypapa laughed. "Not in years, but we are still so much older than you that you are children to us."

There was no way to combat his logic, so I shrugged, admitting defeat. Manny's hand that had been resting on my back began rubbing slow circles. I could tell he enjoyed the banter between us, even though he said nothing. Of course, the fact that the friction where he was touching me was generating enough heat to short circuit my brain could mean that he was talking and I just wasn't capable of hearing him.

We were encouraged to sit on the picnic table in the middle of the garden, so we took the bench opposite them.

Nagymama spoke first. "The herbs are helping. You grow stronger each day."

Manny looked confused, so she explained further. "Stephanie has been soothing your spirit with herbs from my stock. They have sped your healing."

He looked at me and raised an eyebrow, causing me to shake my head. "With her, you can talk, but I still get the eyebrow thingie?"

"You've been drugging me?" he accused, making it obvious I needed to do some fast talking.

"No!" That got his attention. "They were just some dried leaves that tradition says will speed healing, so I sprinkled into your bath water. I haven't drugged you."

Manny grinned too quickly, letting me know he already knew that and he was just having some fun at my expense.

I couldn't let that go unpunished, so I threatened, "But don't push me, because I remember how to knock your ass out with the drugs Bobby left me."

"Such language," Nagypapa interrupted, although I knew he was just jumping in to keep us from arguing further, not because he was offended. There was a reason I knew how to swear in Hungarian, and it had nothing to do with looking the words up in a dictionary. As if agreeing with my thoughts, he spoke once more. "We are pleased you are here. Soon, this danger will be over, and once you are free to leave, we hope you will stay and make this your home."

I looked at Manny, who seemed as shocked as I was. "But we aren't married." I decided to start with the most obvious reason why he shouldn't be advocating for us to stay in their home.

Nagymama pointed at my hand. "Then who have you made vows to?"

"These are wedding rings, but I was given them so that I could play the part of Manny's wife, not because we are married," I explained, realizing I was really just confusing things further.

"How did you convince people you were his wife?" Nagypapa asked.

"I showed them our marriage certificate and some other papers," I offered.

"See?" Nagymama waved her hand as though that settled everything. "No service with fluffy dresses, but still married."

"But we aren't really married. I mean RangeMan would have just made the papers up. They weren't real." Explaining this was harder than I'd thought.

"You act married," Nagypapa jumped in, obviously not stuck on the technicalities.

"We do?" While I felt like the sudden change in tactics was a trap of some sort, I couldn't help but stop and ask.

"Oh yes." Nagymama was practically beaming. "You are humming and tending to his needs. And I saw you flipping through my cookbooks. You want to care for him. In your heart, you are married; that is enough."

"But the papers—" I tried once more.

"May not have been fake," Manny interrupted, looking at me as though begging me not to get angry with him.

"They can't be real because we didn't sign them, so they have to be fake." I figured that logic was pretty infallible.

"Oh, they were forged, no doubt, but in order for them to pass the scrutiny of the hospital, there is a good chance that Hector had to create them and then digitally file them so that officially, in the eyes of New Jersey, we're married, even if we never knew it. My guess is that after this is over, Hector planned on going in and deleting the records so that it would be as though they never existed, but for now, those rings aren't as fake as you think they are." Manny's hand was on top of mine, squeezing as he spoke. I felt as though he was hoping that contact would be enough to keep me from running away.

In the back of my mind, the idea that RangeMan had married me to Manny without my permission or without even telling me what they were doing was something worth getting mad about, but my brain reminded me I was clearly dreaming, which meant it probably wasn't true, so there was no point in running away and possibly waking myself up at the same time.

"There," Nagypapa spoke once more. "So you can stay."

I made a face at Manny, not sure what I wanted him to do but still feeling as though I needed help in answering my great-grandparents' request.

He nodded, letting me know he understood what I needed, and then turned to face the couple across from us. "How about we promise that after the threat is eliminated, we will talk honestly about what's happened to us while we've been here and see if it makes sense for us to get to know each other a little better?"

Nagypapa leaned in toward Manny and said, "You could get to know each other much better while you're here, no?"

"We wouldn't watch," Nagymama assured us, somehow keeping a straight face. "We understand that young people need privacy in order to give us a great-great-grandchild."

As soon as she said that, both of them broke out into laughter. Nagypapa patted his wife's hand and said, "I think we should let them have a little time without us here to think about what we've said. Besides, we already have great-great-grandchildren."

"True, but they can't see us," Nagymama complained. "And wouldn't it be fun to have a baby in the house again?"

While they discussed the trouble with Valerie being so rigid in her beliefs of what was proper and possible, thus making it impossible for them to reach her, they began to fade from my vision, leaving Manny and me alone in the garden at the table.

Once their voices were completely gone, I looked to my left and saw Manny shaking his head.

At my prompting, he explained, "I never thought I'd see the day when I thought your Grandma Mazur was one of the sane members of your family."

"Don't let them worry you." I felt the need to set the record straight. "I mean, I know you didn't want to be saved from the hospital, especially not by me, so the thought of being legally tied to me is probably driving you nuts. As soon as this is over, we'll get Hector to erase everything, and we'll go back to normal."

The fact that he didn't agree right away made me nervous.

"Maybe we should wait and not do anything rash once this is over," Manny spoke softly, slowly, like he was weighing the truth of every word as he spoke it. "Obviously something magical has been happening here, and it might be a good idea to see if it's just the influence of your family or if it's the two of us."

He looked down at our hands and began to rub his fingers over the rings that sat there. "These look good on you."

I smiled, remembering how much I'd hated wearing my wedding rings with Dickie. I knew most women seemed to love the idea of showing off the rock from their fiancé, but I always felt as though he'd given it to me as a billboard about himself instead of a token of how he felt for me.

"I've never been much of a jewelry person, but these fit well, and I like twisting them around." As I made that confession, I used my thumb to move the rings.

"Maybe you like them because of the color, the sapphires. They are more than just a plain diamond," he suggested. "And after seeing this place, your family obviously has a thing for color."

I knew he was picking on me, giving me something to get offended over so that I could change the subject, but for some reason, I didn't want to. As much as I usually hated any conversation that got near emotions, I wasn't screaming or running in the opposite direction this time. Instead, I did the unthinkable and captured his hand between mine, holding him to me, and then I opened my mouth and talked. The fact that I knew this was just a dream made it so much easier to do, and once I got started, I talked for what had to have been hours, sharing with him every detail about my previous love life.

I told him about playing choo-choo with Morelli, about breaking his leg with Grandma's Buick after the Tasty Pastry incident, and then moved onto my marriage with Dickie that made my mother happy, but certainly not me. I tried to explain what was between Ranger and me, and even though I could see him trying to understand, he couldn't get past Ranger sending me back to Morelli after our first night together. At first, I worried that once this was all over, he was going to use that story to challenge Ranger in some way, but after listening to him mumble for a bit, I realized he was in disbelief that Ranger could have allowed me to walk away after having me in his arms all night. There was something in his voice I couldn't figure out, but it felt like a mixture of relief and hope rolled into one.

After I unloaded the train wreck of my love life, Manny seemed encouraged to do the same thing. He told me about his first love, Maria Santiago, his next door neighbor and third grade sweetheart. She intentionally missed catching a ball when their class played kickball together during recess and allowed him to score a home run. Her family moved away the next year, giving him his first heartbreak.

His next one came on the night of his senior prom when his girlfriend left him for the captain of the football team right before he asked her if she was ready to go upstairs to the hotel room he'd rented for the night, giving them the chance to have their first night of sex together. Apparently, she'd been dating this other guy behind Manny's back for a few weeks, but since she'd already agreed to go to the prom with him, she'd felt obliged, but she'd decided to leave with someone else. That left him feeling pretty low about the possibly of a person being faithful, so he'd spent his time in the Army just chasing skirts as a conquest.

Once he finished his active service and began to put roots down, his sister shamed him into giving up a different pickup every week. Her happiness with her mystery man even had Manny beginning to wonder if it might be worth it to give the whole dating thing another shot. Then, of course, her mystery man turned out to be Hernandez, which meant Manny had gone back to thinking love was nothing more than a hoax contrived by guys to get girls in bed.

"You don't really believe that, do you?" I couldn't help but question.

He shrugged, as though that were a response. "I used to, but it's a little harder to hang onto that after meeting your great-grandparents."

My eyes narrowed as I tried to figure out how to respond to that. They were very much in love, so on the one hand, I knew what he meant. My mouth decided that I had to at least attempt to point out something he seemed to be overlooking when it came to my relations. "You realize they aren't real, right? I mean, they died twenty years ago."

"I keep telling myself that very same thing, but then I realize I have to either agree that they are real or admit that I'm losing my mind and inventing ghosts that don't exist. Of the two options, I'm going with freaky but true," he explained with a smile.

We didn't talk anymore as we just sat there looking at each other. Usually, that kind of scene would make me uncomfortable to know someone was watching me that intently and not talking. But with Manny, it just made me feel warm, because I knew he was focused solely on me, and although I wasn't used to that kind of attention, I seemed to like it from him.

The scenery began to get fuzzy, and eventually, the garden disappeared and I got that floating sensation, telling me this dream was over. I blinked my eyes, waking up quickly, and was disappointed to see that we weren't in the same position we'd gone to sleep in. Instead of laying there with my head on his chest, we were turned facing each other, sharing his pillow, with our faces close. Glancing down, I saw his good hand was between mine and the one with a cast was on top of the pile, his index finger over my wedding rings. It was the exact same position we'd been in during my dream conversation.

I jumped when Manny's eyes opened and focused so intently on me. "Good morning," he said with a voice deep with sleep.

My first response was to get nervous about all that we'd shared in the dream. At night, when the world didn't seem real, it was freeing and made it easy to talk about anything. The reality of being awake made me wonder if things might be more awkward now. Then I realized I was worried about confessions made in a dream. They weren't real – Manny hadn't heard them. I had nothing to worry about.

The muscles in my body began to relax after realizing I'd been working myself up over nothing. My eyes closed again as the relief of that fact washed over me.

Then that deep voice spoke once more. "So what exactly is the herb that you've been bathing me with?"

My eyes shot open as I remembered we'd talked about that during my dream. I'd never said a word about it when he was awake. The only way he'd know that piece of information was if he'd been in that dream, too, which wasn't possible...

_Was it?_


	15. Breakfast is the Most Important Meal

None of the characters depicted as being alive are mine. I'm taking them directly from JE.

Jenny (JenRar) thank you for all your work as the beta on this story.

**Chapter 15 – Proof that Breakfast is the Most Important Meal of the Day**

"So what exactly is the herb you've been bathing me in?" Manny asked, expecting an answer.

I had to swallow a few times, unable to figure out how to reply. That conversation had taken place in my dream. There was no logical explanation for him knowing I'd laced his bath with anything.

My mind was swirling with the conversation we'd shared when I thought it was just a vivid dream. "Freaky but true," I mumbled, quoting what he'd said to me as to why he wasn't fighting the possibility that my great-grandparents were somehow communicating directly to us.

Manny stiffened that time; even though only our hands were connected, I could still feel that my words made him uncomfortable. "What did you say?"

"Last night, I had the strangest dream," I began, looking at him to see if he would agree with what I was saying.

"So did I," he admitted, encouraging me to continue talking.

"You were there, and for a while, so were my great-grandparents. Then they left, and we sat on the old picnic table in their garden in the backyard and talked. I told you all about my past failures with men, and you gave me some details about your life before RangeMan, too." As I spoke, I kept my eyes focused on his to see if what I was saying was making him more nervous or putting him at ease. Unfortunately, the time away from RangeMan hadn't taken away his ability to mask his reaction to a situation.

"We had the same dream," he summed up for me.

"That's impossible," I informed him of the obvious.

He tilted his head, as though agreeing with me. "Freaky, but true."

"So just to be sure I haven't lost my mind, your senior prom date…" I waited, hoping he would finish the sentence for me.

"…left me for a jerk she later married after he knocked her up. I should be relieved. If my plans had gone through, it might have been my future that had been completely altered and not his," Manny explained, letting me know that we had definitely shared the same dream.

"How did we do that?" I blurted out.

Manny's mouth opened and then closed, as though instinct was to answer a question directed to him, but once he considered it, he had no clue.

There was the faint sound of laughter that I knew belonged to Nagypapa.

"Did you hear that?"

"Are they laughing at us?" he questioned, letting me know that either I hadn't lost my mind, or we were both equally crazy to be hearing their voices. At the moment, both options worked for me.

"How about breakfast?" I decided changing the subject was the only safe response.

He nodded and grimaced as he started to move.

I squeezed his hands before letting go, hoping he understood that I'd do anything I could to help him. The time we'd spent together had taught me that he didn't like being babied and that he preferred to push through the pain himself instead of my hovering over him.

I climbed out of bed and called out over my shoulder, "I'll slip in the bathroom while you're getting up, and then I'll work on breakfast while you're in there."

"Got it," he agreed to the plan.

I knew it had to be hard on his ego to know that I had time to freshen up, brush my hair and teeth, and change clothes before he could roll over, move to a seated position, stand up, and hobble to the same bathroom I was using. Yesterday had been his fastest day yet, and he was nearly halfway across the den when I stepped out. Today when I opened the door, he was grinning with his stick – which he refused to call a cane, even though that was exactly what it was – raised in the air.

"Was I slow, or are you getting faster?" I wondered, proud of him but knowing better than to point it out because it would mean forcing him to admit how helpless he'd been when he first got here.

"You know women in bathrooms," he taunted me.

"Be nice to me, or I'll intentionally burn your toast," I threatened.

"Didn't you burn my toast yesterday?" he replied, completely serious.

"Yes, but yesterday, it was an accident. Today, it would be a deliberate act of hostility," I clarified, getting a smile in return.

"Consider me on notice, then." He caved a little, stepping to the side so that I could pass by in front of him.

Before he shut the door, I yelled, "I put some fresh pants on the counter."

My information must have hit him a little on the late side, because he exclaimed, "There's no way in hell I'm wearing pants that have monkeys on them."

"Oh come on. Don't you remember the flying monkeys in the _Wizard of Oz_? They were kind of badass," I tried to say with a straight face.

"No, I'm not doing it. Any credibility I might be able to hang onto would be lost forever if Cal or Bobby saw me in those pants. I'll do the bright colors, but I draw the line at animals." He was practically pouting at the end, so I took mercy on him.

"Fine, if you can't be man enough to wear the pants with the little monkeys, then you can open the top drawer and wear the other pair I picked out for you," I told him as I pretended to walk away.

It took a few minutes before I heard him call out, "You mean all this time, you've been dressing me like some kind of crayon experiment, and I could have been wearing black sweatpants?"

"Does that question mean it's the wrong time to tell you about the bag Cal dropped off yesterday that was full of RangeMan clothes for you?" I teased, moving away quickly.

"You have a mean streak in you," he replied, sounding more amused than annoyed. "I should warn you that trying to torture me will only backfire on you."

"Probably," I agreed. "But at least for a little while, I can outrun you, so I'm not worried."

The door slammed, but I wasn't concerned about him truly being angry.

I looked around the kitchen and wondered if it was possible for us to have something other than cereal, smoothies, or whole wheat toast for breakfast. I didn't have anything against those options, but the knowledge that I couldn't just run out for something new or different made me resent the limited choices right now.

A flash in the corner of my eye drew my attention to the little box Nagymama used to store her recipes, and I moved toward it like a moth to a lightbulb. My fingers ran over the tops of the scraps of paper she'd used to record her recipes, and I lifted it up so that I could see her loose scroll handwriting. Something cool seemed to stop my fingers when they touched the top of a specific card, so I pulled it out and grinned when I saw it had only five ingredients listed. After reading her instructions three times, I knew it was probably easy enough that even I wouldn't screw it up.

I began to grab everything, hoping the spices in the cabinet were fresh enough to not ruin my first attempt at cooking from scratch in years. While the griddle heated up on the gas stove, I whisked a couple of eggs together with milk and then poured in some rum from the cabinet and sprinkled in cinnamon. It looked kind of odd with the brown cinnamon floating on top, despite my mixing it as well as I could. Then I grabbed the loaf of bread. I remembered Nagymama's French toast being made with thick bread, but I wasn't going to let this slight necessary substitution force me into quitting now. So I dipped the whole wheat bread Ella was no doubt forced by contract with RangeMan to purchase instead of fluffy white and dipped it in the eggy mixture before putting it on the griddle. After putting the first piece down and hearing the satisfying sizzle, I was excited to do more, but then I remembered that when my mom cooked on a pan like this, she always put butter in it first to keep it from sticking. I looked in the fridge and found some reduced fat olive oil spread and decided that it looked close enough to butter to count, so I rubbed some of it on the rest of the pan and then dunked more bread and put it on to cook.

Once I had eight pieces, I used a spatula to attempt flipping them over. She didn't have directions for how long it needed to cook, and I didn't want to prove Manny right and burn his toast two days in a row. The first piece stuck, so I scraped it off and threw it away, hoping no one would see that little failure. I buttered the empty spot, prepped another piece of bread to erase the evidence of my lack of forethought in prepping the pan, and then moved on to flip the rest of the toast. It smelled good, and I mentally crossed my fingers that it might taste close enough to real food that it wouldn't hurt either of us.

"What is that smell?" Manny asked as he came around the bar into the kitchen.

My attempt to cover up my disappointment must have been too little too late, because he added, "It smells fantastic. I thought the guys said you didn't cook."

"I don't," I agreed, feeling the need for full disclosure. "I just happened to see this recipe from Nagymama and thought I'd try it out to see if I could make French toast like she used to."

He poured us each some orange juice and then picked up the olive oil spread and looked at it, wrinkling his noise as though the thought of that on his food was somehow unsettling.

"This house might have been my great-grandparents, but most of the fresh food came courtesy of RangeMan, so there's no real butter," I explained before he could assume I approved of anything labeled reduced fat.

"Syrup?" he asked, seeking direction on where to find the appropriate topping for our breakfast.

Then I realized I might have done well with the cooking, but I obviously wasn't good enough to plan ahead and check that I had everything I needed. My lip went between my teeth as I glanced around the kitchen, looking for a sign that there might be something sweet and maple-flavored around here somewhere.

Manny opened the refrigerator and pulled out a clear plastic container of strawberries. "Knife?" he asked.

I pointed to the wood block, and he hobbled over, proving that he was definitely more mobile today than he'd been yesterday. I glanced at the clock and realized we'd slept for ten hours, which had to be a record since we got here. Hell, I didn't even think the guys' bodies would allow them to sleep that long. I guessed it was good for him and wondered how I could convince him to sleep that long again tonight.

I watched as he quickly rinsed the berries and then chopped them up and tossed in some sugar. He kept stirring them well after the sugar had to have been mixed in and then turned around and showed me he'd basically pulverized them to make strawberry syrup with lots of juice to put on top of the toast.

Grinning, I stuck my finger in and pulled it out to lick the juice off, thrilled with how sweet it was.

"Coffee?" I asked, moving over to pour up before we sat down to dig in.

"Please," he responded, putting the toast on plates and setting them down at the bar.

"Do you want to sit in the den so you can keep your leg up?" I asked, trying not to demand we go, but wondering if he could be comfortable here.

"Too messy," he replied, catching me off guard. I didn't think the guys had to worry about dropping food on themselves. I figured they were so intimidating to everything around them that the food knew better than to try to cross them.

We poured the berries on top of the toast – I was thrilled to see him use just as much as I had – and then we took a bite at the same time.

"Damn," he spoke before I found my voice. "This is really good."

I meant to say, "Yes, I agree," but it came out as a moan that was longer and huskier than I thought I usually made.

"Well said," he laughed when I finished my appreciative sound.

He leaned against the counter while I washed the dishes once we finished our meal. I was practically bouncing at how easy it was to make breakfast and couldn't wait to try that recipe again. Who knew rum could be an approved breakfast food?

Our conversation flowed as easily as it had in the dream, and I found that the man I had once considered drugging to shut him up was now quickly worming his way into my heart. I refused to think about it any further than that, because I knew that this assignment would end and we would go back to being co-workers at RangeMan, but until then, I was thrilled to have a friend to keep me from losing my mind while in lockdown.

The very second I put away the last dish, the cell phone rang, so I moved quickly to pick it up before we missed the call.

Tank's deep voice indentified him, so that he just jumped right in after I said hello. "Boss man is done with his mission and finished his debrief last night. He said he's got a bead on Hernandez, who he thinks tried to take out Manny, and he's going hunting today. Hopefully, you two can get out of the house in a matter of hours – another day, tops."

I asked him more questions, but it became apparent that his initial summary was truly all he knew. Either that, or Tank had been away from me long enough that he was able to stand up to my questioning better now.

Admitting defeat, I hung up and told Manny exactly what Tank had told me. His whole body stiffened, and he seemed to look beyond me, as though the dark wood of the cabinets could somehow answer a mystery.

"What's wrong?" I asked, foolishly assuming he was just worried about what it would be like between us when we were no longer forced to share a house, constantly in each other's presence. Of course, since none of the guy's brains worked like mine did, I should have known he wasn't thinking the same thing I was.

"Hernandez," Manny responded cryptically. "Ranger is going to take out Hernandez."

"That's good news, right?" I had to ask, because the way Manny said it made me think he was less than pleased with Ranger's plan.

"He was supposed to be mine," Manny said, finally taking his eyes off the cabinet and looking at me. "For years now, I've been planning for the day when my path would cross his and I could take his life to avenge my sister. This mission, I knew, would put me back in his path, so I changed all my paperwork to ensure I either succeeded and took the life of the man who took away my family, or if I failed, I would do it so spectacularly that I wouldn't survive to regret my lack of ability. I needed this to be over, one way or the other."

"And it will be," I reminded him.

"Technically, but I wanted to be the one to do it, to pull the trigger," Manny explained. "Ranger will succeed, because he's…well, Ranger. And the thing that has kept me going for so long will never happen."

I figured a lot of what he was saying was some kind of guy thing that I could only relate to theoretically. But I still felt the need to reply. "Tank only reported going after Hernandez. There's still the cousin that is most likely the one that tried to kill you with the bomb."

"What?" Manny bit out, zoning in so completely on me that I was uncomfortable from the intensity.

"When I ran the search last week, his big-lipped cousin was the one that seemed to be mysteriously present every time an unexplained explosion happened that caused a loss of life when Hernandez was in town. I figured that was the guy that did his dirty work for him, since a guy like Hernandez would think himself too important to actually kill somebody himself," I explained, thinking I had already pointed this out, but remembering this was before Manny had decided I wasn't the enemy after all.

"Show me," he commanded in a gruff tone.

There was a part of me that wanted to object to him attempting to command me, but I decided to hold off a little longer, since this was obviously a big emotional trigger for him. Hopefully, if I held onto my temper, Manny would be able to as well, and we could avoid taking a huge step backward.

I pulled up the PDF version of the search I'd saved to my desktop and found the picture of the cousin, Juan. As soon as he saw it, he nodded, and I knew he remembered me sharing this after Cal brought us Juan's picture from St. Elizabeth's as the person who had been asking about where Manny had disappeared to.

"You're right," Manny said under his breath. "Mateo wouldn't have dirtied his hands like this; he would have used his cousin." Then he smiled slightly, but the sight of it made me shiver. As much as I liked to think of the guys as my black-clad heroes, all kindness and honor, it was unfair for me to box them in like that. They'd all seen combat of various types and had been forced to either see or do some horrible things to protect others. That meant they had skills I couldn't fathom, and to judge him for a small piece of that slipping out when he looked at a picture of the man who had tried to kill him wasn't fair.

"You won't do anything too dangerous, will you?" I asked softly, not sure if he'd appreciate the question.

"No worries. There's a degree of separation between Mateo and Juan that will help me to keep my head," he replied without moving his eyes from the picture. After a moment's pause, he turned slightly and looked at me with a different kind of smile on his face. Gone was the warrior planning the death of his enemy, and in its place was the playful man I'd been getting to know and care for over the last few weeks.

"Why?" he asked, obviously wanting to play.

"Why, what?" I wondered, not able to keep up with his changing moods.

"Why do you want me to say that I won't do anything too dangerous?" He took a step closer to me, and I felt like the room that had been so large a moment ago had shrunk down to just the three square feet of floor space we were encompassing.

"I don't want you to get hurt," I replied softly, knowing that while honest, it wasn't really full disclosure, either.

"Why don't you want me to get hurt?" he pushed again. "Are you going to get mad if somebody messes up the nursing you've done to me?"

"No," I replied, and then realized how callous that made me sound, so I shook my head and corrected myself, "Yes."

He took another half step and asked, "Which is it? Yes, you would be mad because somebody undid your work, or no, you wouldn't be mad if somebody hurt me?"

"I'd be furious if someone hurt you," I told him, figuring that was somehow a safe response.

"Why?" He didn't seem to be in the mood to let this go. "Why does it matter? Just a week ago, I treated you like shit. Why are you worried about me now?"

"Because I don't see you as the same man I did a week ago," I blurted out, not sure if he'd accept that.

Another small step removed most of the space between us, and I felt the need to breathe faster.

"Who am I now that is so different from who I was before?"

How did I answer that? Did I tell him now that I knew more about him, I couldn't see him in the same way? Or did I go for more blatant honesty and confess that something about the dreams, this house, the way he relied on me and allowed himself to be vulnerable around me all made me think about him in ways so strong that I was sure if something happened to him while he was off seeking revenge, I would carry a scar of what might have been for the rest of my life? Once that thought sunk in, I realized that while true, it was a bit of a far reaching statement and most likely something that would scare the shit out of Manny, so I shook my head, unable to come up with an appropriate answer.

"Would you miss me if something happened to me?" His voice was barely above a whisper, and he raised the hand not gripping his stick to touch my cheek.

I nodded yes, that I would miss him.

"Why would you miss me, Steph?" He needed something from me. Manny hadn't been this pushy since we were locked in here, and I had a feeling he wouldn't let this go until I gave him an answer of some sort.

I shut my eyes, and the image of him coming around the corner complimenting the smell of the French toast came to mind. Then the picture shifted, and I saw him smashing strawberries into syrup so that we could eat the food I'd made, even though I'd clearly not planned out the meal since there was no maple syrup in the house. When I opened my eyes and saw him still watching me, I knew I had my answer. I only hoped he'd accept it.

"Why?" he prompted once more, letting me know he was still waiting.

"Because you took me seriously when you came around the corner and saw me cooking breakfast," I told him, obviously giving him an answer he hadn't expected. The surprise on his face gave me the courage to keep talking. "And because you stood up to me about the monkey pajama pants, and you took the time to listen to me explain why I run searches the way I do. And you don't think I'm crazy because I admitted to hearing the voices of people who have been dead for twenty years."

"That's a pretty long list," he said, somehow drawing me closer to him just with the contact of his palm on my face. There was no denying our bodies lined up well, and despite all the time he'd spent recuperating the last few weeks, he was still rock solid against me.

"Why are you so interested in my answer?" My brain was getting fuzzy, but I felt like it was important to turn the tables on him.

He smiled, as though he knew exactly what I was doing. "Because I need to know if I have a reason to be careful." He paused before adding, "Do I? Do I have a reason to be careful?"

There was no way I was going to jump out on that limb alone. "Do you think you do?"

He nodded slowly, not allowing our eye contact to break.

"What is it?"

It took a minute, and his eyes narrowed a little, as though he were internally battling through what the answer was to that question. Finally, he smiled slightly and said, "My wife told me to be careful, and I've heard a lot of husbands say it's better for everyone if they just do what the little woman asks the first time."

"We're not really married," I pointed out, not sure why I seemed to be pushing up on my toes a little, trying to overcome some of the height difference between us.

Manny leaned down a little so that he could rest his forehead against mine. "We are in the eyes of New Jersey. Do you think it takes a big fancy event to be married?"

"No," I admitted, not sure where this was going, but really enjoying the ride.

"Me, neither," he replied, his voice going even lower and making me wonder if I could hold myself up like this while my knees were simultaneously getting weak.

I raised my chin just a little, wishing he'd take the hint or the invitation I was so obviously offering. Fortunately, despite the opinion Cal seemed to hold that Manny had a problem with people in his personal space, Manny seemed to like me exactly where I was, because he made a sound deep in his chest. It bordered on being a growl, but it was too damn sexy for me to think about it any further.

"Stephanie," he said as a whisper.

"Hmmm?" I was past talking and had moved on to wishing he would lower his lips those final three centimeters.

"Should I stop?" he asked, obviously trying to give me an out before we did something that might be considered a regret later.

Unfortunately, because my mind and mouth were unable to communicate, I nodded yes, and he stiffened. My brain took that moment to realize the confusion my response had caused, and I moved my hands to the back of his neck to hold him in place.

"You should stop talking, Manny."

He understood immediately and didn't hesitate again. He moved smoothly and captured my lips with his, softly pressing our mouths together in a first kiss that was unlike anything I'd ever experienced. He wasn't the least bit rushed, like we had all the time in the world to stand at the counter kissing. And as far as I was concerned, he was exactly right about that.

My need to make noise caused me to open my mouth to sigh against him, and he instantly slipped his tongue in, seeking mine and exploring my mouth. Following his lead, I tightened my grip on him and quite possibly attacked him. I'd never admit to it, of course, but I did have to lower my hand to his shoulder to help him regain his balance from the force of my body pushing against his.

I loved the way his mouth was warm and sweet. He still carried the slight hint of strawberries and rum from our breakfast, but it was mixed with something else that I knew was just pure Manny, and it was that taste I wanted more of.

My mind came back to me when Manny nearly stumbled. "I'm sorry, Manny," I apologized. "I didn't mean to push so hard."

"Not your fault," he replied, causing me to smile in a satisfied way at the fact that he was out of breath slightly. "I'm thinking the quick switch in blood flow made me dizzy."

"You're bleeding?" Now it was my turn to be confused.

Manny laughed, giving me one of my favorite sounds. Instead of going through a lengthy explanation, he thrust his hips against me, allowing me to feel the side effect of his blood flowing in new directions.

"Ohhhh!" I knew I had turned a shade of red that would have matched our toast topping from this morning.

"Now, how about you help me back to bed and we try that again, without having to worry about keeping our balance?" He spoke in that voice I was now calling his bedroom voice, and I knew I'd go along with it just for the possibility of hearing him say something else in that sexy way.

I nodded and heard the slight sound of laughter just as we had this morning. I chose to interpret that as my great-grandparents agreeing to leave us alone and give us some privacy like they'd promised in an earlier dream, because I wasn't ready to talk about giving them any more great-great-grandchildren, but I was definitely interested in more lip time with Manny.


	16. Mush, Push and Guns

_The characters below are all courtesy of JE._

_Jenny (JenRar) thank you for your hard work as the beta on this story._

**Chapter 16 – A Little Mush, a Little Push, and Some Guns**

Kissing always seemed like seeing the mileage marker for your vacation destination, knowing in just ten more miles, you would get out of the car and finally get to put your toes in the sand and your body in the water. The act of kissing brought about that same kind of anticipation and excitement for me, knowing that soon, I'd be moving on to the good stuff that my body definitely wanted to get to. But kissing Manny was nothing like the usual trip to get to the final location; it was a destination of its own, and I was in no hurry to have it end.

"Bed?" I managed to ask when he pulled back enough to take a deep breath.

He nodded, which I took as meaning, "Yes the bed sounds perfect, but I'm too distracted by kissing you to speak." It was a bit of a stretch that his nod meant all of that, but he wasn't disagreeing with me, so I felt like I was within my rights to put words in his open mouth.

We moved slowly, more because Manny seemed hesitant to let me go than because he was injured. I paused when we got to his hospital bed in the den, but he found his voice to say, "Not here. I'm tired of being in that damned bed. If I'm well enough to do this, I'm well enough to be beside you on a real mattress."

I could have debated that the hospital bed held a real mattress, but arguing didn't seem like the right move once his tongue slipped between my open lips again. And then he did the most wonderful thing – Manny moaned. This wasn't a short, quiet sound that slipped through. It was a long, sensual noise that told me his defenses and walls were nowhere to be found. I don't think any touch could have turned me on as much as that sound did.

"Bed, now," I instructed, beginning to move us again down the hall to the colorful room that I considered mine.

It took us a while to make our way that far, but I couldn't have said exactly how long. Kissing Manny had short circuited my reference of time. Every time his lips touched mine, I felt complete. Each time he pulled back to take a breath or skim his bottom lip with his tongue, I wanted to yank his head back to me. I was able to keep a firm enough grip on my senses to refrain from jerking him too hard, but it wouldn't surprise me if my pulls on his hair caused him to lose a few strands. Of course, the way he made a new sound every time I tightened my grip on his silky locks told me he wouldn't care if half his hair was gone.

We were only a foot away from the bed when Manny finally opened his eyes enough to look around. He blinked a few times and then looked down with a grin. "It's not just the pajamas here, is it? This whole house is an experiment in color."

"I know it's a little odd, but they were vibrant people. It fit them," I attempted to explain, even though I didn't really want to talk about my family at this precise moment.

"I like it." His smile transformed into something more predatory. "It fits you, too – completely alive and not bound by convention to be boring and contained."

"That sounds like me," I agreed, stretching up to kiss him again. "But some people interpret that as me being a bit of a freak and uncontrollable."

He chuckled a little before adding, "They're idiots."

After that conversation, he didn't seem to feel the need to practice our verbal skills anymore, which suited me perfectly. It took a minute to get him lowered down to the bed. It wasn't as high as his hospital bed, so it required getting his injured leg in the right spot before he could sit down. Then a few grimaces later, he pulled his cast up to lie on the mattress and stretched out, as well. By the time he was done, I wondered if all the activity and the obvious discomfort would mean he needed to actually rest now that he was lying down.

It took a second or two before he opened his eyes, and I was surprised to see the hunger that had been their earlier hadn't left. He patted the bed beside him, forcing me to climb up from the foot since I couldn't fit between the mattress and the wall and there was no way he could scoot over easily. I crawled up from the bottom and laid beside him on my side, supporting my head with my hand so that I could look at him.

"How are you?" I asked, wanting to be sure we weren't pushing him too soon after his injuries. It had been just a couple of weeks ago that he was unconscious in a hospital, so I didn't want to cause him more pain than pleasure.

He shrugged. "I'm focused."

Playful Manny was something I was still adjusting to, but I had to admit that I liked this side of him. I was sure part of it was because he was genuinely fun, but mostly I think I loved it because I'd never seen him relax like this around the guys, so I liked to believe this was a side that only I got to see.

"Focused on what?" I played along, lifting my free hand to rest on his chest.

He took my hand in his good one and held it there while he looked at me. After waiting just long enough that tension had begun to build, he decided to reply, "You."

I looked down, breaking the eye contact, but when he started speaking again, I had to look up once more.

"I have no idea how I've missed seeing you all this time."

"You saw me," I replied, trying to reassure him. "We even worked an occasional shift together, and you were a perfect gentleman."

"No, I was guarded around you and tried to keep more than a respectable distance between us. I told myself it was because you were the boss's woman, but I think it may have been more that I knew if I let myself relax, I'd want to be much closer to you than was possible," he assured me.

"What made you think it wouldn't be possible?" I wondered.

"Since Laney died, I've lived a partial life, going through all the motions of what was expected of me at RangeMan, but my free time has been devoted to this need to avenge my sister. I've lived with the knowledge that it would probably cost me my life but that I would willingly give it if that's what it took to end Hernandez's. When that is your main reason for living, there's no room for anything else. I don't think I could handle the competing pulls to give up my life because of what Laney went through and to live my life to be with you."

When he put it that way, I wondered what had changed. Why was it suddenly possible now?

"What's different now?"

His face softened a little, as though he understood what I was really asking. "Now, Ranger is taking out Hernandez, and I've gotten to know you. That stubborn streak in you proved to be too much for me to resist, and you pulled me in so far, I can't pull back."

"Do you want to pull back?" I didn't want it to seem like I was questioning everything he said, but my track record with guys who said they liked me proved that there was usually a qualifier of some sort attached to the sentiment.

"No," he quickly assured me, squeezing my hand with his to make his point. "But I can't promise that I won't do it from time to time. I've lived in my own little world for long enough that there may be times I push you out just because I don't know how to let you in. I'm not exactly the easiest guy to get along with."

"You?" I pretended to be shocked by his words. "I'm not sure if you've heard this or not, but sometimes I can be a little on the pigheaded side myself. And when I feel scared about something, I tend to run. There might be times that I run away just because I don't know how to deal with what is happening."

"What do I do when you run?" He was asking for my advice in how to handle me, and I thought it was the sweetest gesture any guy had ever made for me. He was admitting that he needed help, and he wasn't too proud to ask for it.

I had to think about it for a minute. When I ran from Joe, he would demand I come back, puffing up as though an authoritative voice was enough to bend my will to his. When I ran from Ranger, he let me go and then waited until we ran into each other again, pretending that nothing had happened. Neither of those really worked, though.

"I think when I run, I need someone to run with me. Not to chase me or to cut me off, but just to let me know that if I need a change of scenery, that's okay, yet I'm not alone while I'm getting there," I said, wondering if that kind of response was even possible.

Then I remembered what he'd said about how he might try to exclude me out of habit and asked, "What do I do when you try to push me out because you don't know how to let me in?"

He took a moment to consider my question, which I appreciated. He wasn't just blowing it off as though there was nothing that could be done. "Push back," he finally advised. "Remind me that I want you in my life, and don't let me get away with telling you parts of it are too dark or too dangerous for you to access."

"You know those words are probably going to bite you in the ass, right?" I teased, wondering if I could stand up to him when he needed me to or if I'd run from the challenge instead.

Manny frowned playfully, pretending to reconsider.

"I'm not the easiest person to get along with, either," I warned him. "You're probably only tolerating it this well because there is no one else here for you to compare me to."

He laughed at how I'd given him an out. "Trust me. If there was someone else here, your stock would go up. No one compares to you." As soon as he said the last part, he made a face.

"What was that?" I asked, not recognizing the expression.

"Tell me this room isn't bugged for safety reasons," he responded, not really answering my questions.

"I have no idea... Why?" I still wanted to know about that face.

"Because that last thing I told you had to be the girliest line I've ever said," he explained, making me smile.

"Don't worry, I won't tell anybody. Your tough guy image can stay intact," I assured him.

"I do have a good image to uphold," he said, sounding proud of it. "I don't know how I'll act when the guys are around. I mean, I've got years of training to fall back on that dictates my responses when I'm at RangeMan. I want you with me, but being open with you is completely contrary to what I'm used to."

"You can do both, you know." I felt like this was an important point to make. "You can be the big bad ass you've perfected around the office, and then you can be this guy when you're with me."

"It makes me sound like I've got a split personality," he joked, but his laughter felt forced.

"It's not like I have loads of experience with this," I pointed out. "I mean, it's not like I chase skips while holding hands with my partner."

Manny started drawing designs on the back of my hand, and the quiet in the room felt comfortable. "Do all healthy relationships start with this much talking?" he asked, lightening the mood once more.

"Hell if I know. I've never had a healthy relationship," I admitted. "I have no idea how to do this."

"We'll figure it out together," he suggested, stretching to move his hand up behind my neck. "We've got lots of time."

I allowed him to pull me toward him so that I was leaning across his chest with my face directly in front of his.

"Right now, I've got some better suggestions of how we should spend the time." He lifted his face just enough to touch our lips together.

I was lost to him again as soon as our mouths connected.

In the back of my mind, I thought I heard the cell phone ringing, and not for the first time, but I elected to ignore it, much preferring to focus my attention on what Manny was doing with his tongue on my throat. I'd always been slightly ticklish where my neck met my shoulders, but when he gave me attention there, it was all I could do to keep from begging for more.

Manny made a sound that was a lot more like a groan of annoyance than the sexy moan he'd made earlier. It was enough of a difference that I pulled back to look at him, and I could see something wasn't right, based on his face.

Before I could ask, he said, "I hate to say this, but you'd better get the phone. If you miss another of their calls, I'm pretty sure they'll just show up."

"I'll be right back," I promised, forcing myself to climb off of Manny and move to the den to grab the cell phone.

Just as I picked it up to bring it back to the bedroom with me, it began ringing again. I answered before the second ring sounded and heard Cal's voice.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," I assured him. "Why are you out of breath?"

"I was at the Tasty Pastry and was going to pick up something for you to bring by later and thought I'd ask what you wanted, so I called, but you didn't answer." As he spoke, I began walking down the hall to see Manny again.

"Since I'd ridden with Binkie and he was at the electronics store next door, I decided to run to the office and get my car to see what was going on to keep you from answering the phone."

"Cal, that's over a mile," I interrupted, assuming that's why he was out of breath.

He made a noise that basically blew off my worries about the distance. "Once I got to RangeMan, you still weren't answering, so I ran up the stairs to the control room and asked Brett to pull up the monitors from your place, but everything looked secure."

"So that's when you called this time?" I wondered if the stairs on top of the long jog accounted for his heavier than normal breathing.

"No," he said again, making my head spin at all he'd been through to get in touch with me. Now I felt slightly guilty for ignoring his calls just so I could neck. "By the time I got back downstairs, Binkie was back. He walked over to where I was so we could discuss the next move and left the Explorer at the curb. We'd only gotten so far as to bump knuckles before somebody drove by and shot the hell out of the SUV. We had to dive for cover and return fire."

By this point, I was back in the bedroom. Manny took one look at me and his blank face slid into place before he used his good arm to push himself up on the bed, leaning against the headboard. He motioned for me to come sit beside him. I followed his direction without consciously making the decision to do so.

Once I was sitting beside him, I relaxed slightly and asked, "Are you okay? Did you get hurt?"

"I'm fine, but it scared the shit out of me," he admitted, making me smile.

"I didn't think tough military guys were afraid of a bullet or two," I teased, trying to make him think of something other than what he'd just been through.

"I'm not, Angel," he assured me. "I was scared for you. We have no idea who was throwing lead at our car, but it's just as likely to be someone upset with you as with RangeMan, so when I couldn't reach you, I was worried they'd gotten to you as well."

"I'm okay, and so is Manny," I assured him. "Nobody knows we're here, so we're safe. If this is somehow related to me, I'm so sorry you had to go through that."

"We don't know anything yet about what happened. RangeMan has a list of people who don't send us Christmas cards because of our own pasts. There's no reason to assume it was a vendetta against you or Manny that caused it. But most people around here know better than to try to take out a RangeMan vehicle, especially right in front of our building. Stay low, and as soon as we finish processing the scene, I'm going to head out there. I think Tank wants another body or two there until Ranger gives the all clear to bring you home." Cal paused before adding, "Tank doesn't overreact, so if he says it's necessary, I hope you'll go along with it."

I didn't see anything to object to. If the powers that be thought we needed more protection, especially with Manny being compromised because of his injuries, then I was all for that. This was nearly over, so there was no reason to argue with the guys about beefing security now.

"That would be great. Whatever Tank thinks is best is fine with me. I just want to be sure Manny is safe."

"What about you?" Cal asked.

"Me, too," I assured him, but in the back of my mind, I knew that I'd do anything to keep Manny alive and whole, so accepting additional guards and an extended period in lockdown wasn't the burden it usually was. If it were just for me, I might complain that it was unnecessary because I didn't want to be a burden to RangeMan. But since it was for Manny, there was no way I was going to get in the way of that.

"When will you be here?" I asked, suddenly feeling the need to have backup in case the shooting there was related to Hernandez in some way.

"Within the hour," he responded. "Hang tight, okay?"

"Call me when you're here, and I'll let you in," I replied, before realizing he had hung up. I was trying – really, really trying - but that whole hanging up on me before I thought the conversation was over was getting annoying.

"What's going on?" Manny asked.

I realized he'd probably heard just enough to be worried, but not enough to have the whole scoop. I hated feeling that way, so I quickly filled him in on everything Cal had said.

"Help me up," he replied without asking additional questions. It was just as well he didn't need more details, because I'd already shared everything I knew.

By allowing me to help him, he moved much quicker, and after a stop by the bathroom for both of us, we made our way to the den.

He stopped walking and asked, "Where are the weapons from RangeMan?"

That was an interesting question. "I gave you the gun I found in the couch," I reminded him, pointing to his cast, where the holster I'd made him was still strapped to the fiberglass.

"No..." He shook his head, as though I'd said something incredibly silly. "There is no way RangeMan set this up as a safe house for you without a substantial amount of firepower to secure it. Are there any duffle bags in closets or in the cabinets in the kitchen?"

"When we got here, I didn't really do a search, so I don't know," I replied, a little embarrassed that I hadn't considered it. But then again, even if I'd known we were set up with enough ammo to hold off a small militia, I don't know what I would have done with that knowledge.

"You go search all the bedrooms and bathrooms, and I'll take care of the kitchen. Bring everything you find to the den, and we'll sort it out together," he suggested, basically telling me what to do. The way he'd included me in it so that I didn't feel like I was being ordered around made me want to do a good job for him.

Rushing through each of the rooms at my end of the house, I was shocked to find one duffle bag in the closet of the color room I'd slept in and another in the linen closet of the bathroom.

I dragged them out to the den, surprised at how heavy they were. Did they think we were going to be attacked by a rogue nation? I mean, how necessary was it for us to have hand grenades?

Manny had found three knives, a pouch of throwing stars, and another Glock in the kitchen, so when he laid eyes on what I was pulling out of the canvas, he began to relax. "Man, am I glad to see these," he said, looking like a kid at Christmas while picking up a smoke bomb.

"Why do we need all this?" I blurted out, wishing I understood the attraction guys had to this kind of thing.

"Well, they're all for different things. This"—he lifted a rectangular case—"is a sniper rifle. It's great from a distance, but not exactly what you want in a close gun battle."

Then he lifted a holster with two Glocks already loaded and ready to go. "And this is something you want on you so that you have a primary weapon and a backup in case something misfires or you have the need to shoot in opposing directions."

"These?" I asked, lifting two knives that looked more like something the grim reaper would carry with a short handle at the other end.

His eyes nearly glazed over as he took one from me. "Ah, now these aren't my specialty – I'm more of a gun and gadgets man – but Cal can do as much damage with an arsenal of knives, sickles, and throwing discs than most people can do with a handgun. It's like watching him dance, except his audience usually ends up on the ground bleeding."

I couldn't stop myself from feeling slight nauseous at that idea.

Of course Manny noticed and set down the blades he'd practically been molesting. "Why don't you like guns?"

"I don't have anything against guns," I replied, sounding defensive even to my ears.

"But you refuse to carry yours when it's loaded, and you never seem to draw it as a first line of defense," he pointed out accurately.

"It's seen some service," I responded quietly.

Manny's eyes squinted, like he was trying to squeeze a memory into focus. "That's right... You took out that guy who managed the boxer. From what I heard, despite him getting the slip on you and it being your first time dealing with adrenaline in a life or death situation, you were able to unload dead center and take care of yourself."

I drew in a breath that was shaky at best. "I don't like the idea of shooting people. It's like having to make a judgment call that someone else's life is less valuable than mine. And once I pull the trigger, I can't take the bullet back, so I hate even having it in my hand, because then I'm forced to use it." I shivered again as I thought back over each time I'd pulled my gun on another human.

"Hey," Manny said, reaching out to touch my face and force me to focus on him instead of the gory movie now looping in my brain. "You did what you had to do. The moment one of those assholes put you in the position where you could lose your life, they made the judgment call that they didn't deserve to live. All you did was fight for your ability to keep going. Don't blame yourself for someone else's bad decisions."

I knew he was right, but I still hated the thought that I'd taken someone else's life. In hindsight, it still seemed like the only option I had at the time, but I still hated that I'd done it.

As soon as that thought crossed my mind, I felt something cool on the opposite side of my face from where Manny's hand was and then I heard Nagymama's voice. "You have nothing to fear, child. You come from a long line of loving people who fight when pushed to protect what is right. Put these thoughts away now."

Just as quickly as it had come, her voice and touch were gone. I looked up at Manny, wondering if I should tell him what she'd said, but he spoke before I could.

"She's right, you know. You have nothing to fear, and it's time to put those thoughts away."

"You heard her?" I asked, knowing he'd shared some dreams with me but still finding it strange that he could hear her voice while we were awake. "I thought the voice was in my head."

He seemed confused by my question. "Yeah, I heard, and I don't think it was out loud in the room, so I guess it was in my head, too. Maybe it's because I was touching you when she spoke, or maybe it's because I've been here long enough some of the house's vibe is wearing off on me."

"The house's vibe?" I repeated, not sure what he meant.

"You know, the colors all seem to be right now, this carpet feels good on my feet, I don't mind the bright pajama pants…the house's vibe," he offered as an explanation.

I heard Nagypapa's laugh then before he said, "No, son, it's love. We are connected to Stephanie through our love for her, and now you have the same thing. You hear us through her. If you didn't care deeply for her, you wouldn't be able to sense us at all."

Manny and I kept staring at each other, neither asking if we'd heard the same message, because it was obvious we had.

Then Nagypapa added, "Besides, the house could use an update, and even I didn't wear most of those pants. Why would anybody buy pants with monkeys on them? It brings to mind an old vulgar expression from when I was a young man about choking—"

I heard Nagymama clear her voice to make him stop talking, and they drifted to the back of my mind, allowing what struck me most about what he'd said to come back to me.

"You care for me?" I wondered, past questioning the voices and just accepting they were real, at least to the two of us.

"And you care for him too, child," Nagymama announced, basically outing my feelings before I got Manny to confirm his own.

"But we haven't spent that much time together," I argued, putting a hand on Manny's to keep him connected to me. I might not understand how I was feeling, but I didn't want him to think I didn't like it.

"I took one look at my wife when we were fourteen and knew I loved her. She hadn't spoken a word to me, but there was no doubt in my heart that she was to be mine. Time is no matter to the heart. You could spend years with someone and have only a deep friendship to show for it. There is nothing wrong with that for some people, but for us… We have fire in our blood, and we must have passion. Love like ours is not born from time; it comes from the heart, and your heart knows what it feels," Nagypapa explained, as though he were teaching me how to tie my shoes. His patient voice seemed to drip with wisdom, and each word pressed the truth of his message into me.

Manny must have seen the moment I stopped fighting what my great-grandparents were trying to tell me, because he spoke the second my mind cleared. "I do care for you. I'm not Hungarian, so I don't know if I can claim fire in my blood like he said, but we Latins are known for passion in our own right. I'm pretty sure I can relate."

I couldn't help but grin at him. When we started our confinement in this house, I wouldn't have described Manny as fiery. Grumpy, for sure – even stoic in some ways. But the last couple of days, I had begun to see new sides of him, and I adored every one. When I thought about it like that, I found it easy to talk about how I felt.

"I care for you, too."

He got a cocky grin on his face as he held up some leather contraption that I knew had a couple of guns attached to it. "Do you care for me enough to put this on?"


	17. The Best Laid Plans

_JE created the characters below. I'm merely having fun at their expense._

_Jenny (JenRar) thank you for your work as the beta on this story, and for helping me to slice and dice when I can't stop typing. _

**Chapter 17 – The Best Laid Plans**

"_I care for you, too."_

_He got a cocky grin on his face as he held up some leather contraption that I knew had a couple of guns attached to it. "Do you care for me enough to put this on?"_

"Sure," I agreed quickly, attempting to take it from his hands to help him get dressed.

"No..." He pulled it back when he saw what I was trying to do. "I meant for you to wear it."

"I don't like guns," I told him, knowing I'd wear the holster if he pushed but feeling like he needed to understand that I wasn't joking about this.

"No, you don't like killing people. You don't have a beef with guns," he said patiently, trying to shift how I was looking at the weapon he was holding. "But I need to know that if something happens and I can't watch over you that you have a hope of protecting yourself."

When he put it like that, I dropped my arms and gave in to what he wanted. I pulled the holster on, but it was too loose, obviously adjusted for one of the guys instead of someone my size.

"Can you help me tighten this up?" I asked, turning around so my back was to his face.

I felt him tugging, and after a few pulls on the straps, I heard him growl. It was nothing like the noises he'd made for me down the hall, so I assumed this one was born of frustration.

"Manny?"

His hands went to my hips, holding me in place, and then I felt his head rest against the small of my back. "This is ridiculous. I'm half a man."

"What?" I wasn't sure I heard him correctly. "What are you talking about?"

"If there's anything I've realized over the last few weeks, it's that you are so full of life, the people around you have no choice but to want to live. And knowing that, there's no way it's right for you to be bound to someone as broken as I am. I can barely walk, my side is still majorly sore, my arm is in a cast, and I'm covered in scars. I can't even adjust the straps on a damn holster because they're so small and my casted hand can't grip anything that little. How can I pretend that I can keep you safe if I can't even get a gun on you correctly?"

I pulled the holster off, tightened up the straps, and put it back on, happy with the way it fit now. "I don't need you to tighten up my holster; I can easily that for myself. But do you know what I can't do?"

His head pulled away from my back, so I took that moment to spin around and face him. I grabbed his face with both my hands and forced him to look up at me.

"I can't accept that you are only half a person because some of your parts are temporarily out of commission. I can't listen to you talk down about what you deserve. And I absolutely can't handle you trying to take away my ability to decide for myself what is best for me."

"But I could be hobbling around for a long time. Hell, Bobby didn't pull any punches. Between the kneecap, the ligament, the leg…I may have a limp that no amount of therapy can get rid of." He sounded as though he thought this full disclosure would somehow talk some sense into me.

"Do you really think it wise to argue with a woman who has two guns strapped on her?" I pushed, needing him to let this go, because it hurt me to think of how the thought of not being in perfect physical condition was bothering him.

"But—" There was still an argument in him, so I decided to attack in a way I knew he wouldn't just sit there and take.

"Tell me something." I shook his head a little to show him I meant business. "Is this weak attempt to push me away because your injuries are more extensive than Bobby realized? I mean, you might have a limp, you might not, but is there something else wrong that I need to know about?"

I tried raising an eyebrow, but without a mirror, I couldn't tell if I'd succeeded. He looked confused, so I stepped closer so that our bodies were in contact with each other.

"Are there parts of you so damaged that I wouldn't have access to them? Are you telling me a life with you would mean a celibate life? Of your three legs, are you down to just one being functional?"

When I said the last part, I lifted one of my knees and softly pressed it into his groin, rubbing it suggestively to be sure he got my point. I didn't bother to try to mask my satisfaction when his body began to instantly respond to my attention. And based on how quickly things seemed to change and how fully the crotch of his sweatpants were being stretched, not only was this leg working, but it held the potential for doing one hell of a good job.

His eyes dropped down, attempting to look at what I was doing to him. I let go of his head and rested my hands on his shoulders instead.

"You wouldn't mind going to dinner with a guy that needed a stick to balance?"

"Not when the guy in question is you," I told him, meaning every word. Then I decided to try turning the tables on him and asked, "Remember, outside of this house, I'm no prize, either. Do you really want to get calls that tell you the girl you were supposed to go out with that night just went offline because the tracker on her car disappeared?"

"Isn't there some kind of spell you can cast with your gypsy heritage to keep your cars from exploding?" His face was completely serious, but when he looked up at me, I could see something in his eyes that told me he was joking.

I was about to tell him that was ridiculous, that my family weren't witches, but Nagymama's voice beat me to it.

"There are some things you can do to help."

I froze, realizing as much as I appreciated their desire to help us along, my leg was getting Manny in a state I didn't think it was fair to leave him in, and the thought to doing anything about it seemed gross if my deceased relatives were watching.

"Ummm, can we talk about that later?" I asked, not sure how to tell them to get lost in their own house. Technically, we were the guests here.

Nagypapa's laugh sounded again. "We're going, we're going."

Once I felt as though we were really alone, I leaned down and pressed my lips to Manny's. I didn't hesitate to take the kiss deeper and harder to make the point that I needed that passion from him. I wasn't looking for a pretty guy to hang on around town; I needed a man who could keep up with my changing moods and that understood me without feeling the need to change me along the way.

When I felt him responding, giving me every bit as much emotion in return, I pulled back just enough to talk. "Have we settled that?"

He grinned and gave me a quick kiss in return before saying, "Absolutely. You don't mind if I have a limp because you're more interested in what I can do in the bedroom."

That thought made me laugh. "That's right, Manny; I'm just going to use you as my bedroom toy. Since you'll be lying down, your ability to walk without a limp really isn't important. I'm just interested in what your perpendicular leg is capable of dishing out."

Before I could respond, Manny's good arm grabbed me around my waist and pulled me off balance so that I fell onto his good leg. I squealed and grabbed his shoulders for support, trusting that he wouldn't drop me but not able to stop the reflex.

His mouth went to my ear, and he used that voice that sent shivers straight down my spine and to the spot between my legs that was beginning to crave a little time with the perpendicular leg I'd just been referring to. "If you want to play with me in the bedroom, I'm certainly game, but don't think I'm just going to lay there and let you have all the fun. I'll play all right, but I play hard and long, so be sure you're ready for that. Because even with a cast or two slowing me down, I'm sure I can surpass your expectations."

I moaned louder than when I'd had my last Pino's sub. That had to have been the hottest thing I'd ever heard. I was used to playing with Ranger and feeling the heat we could generate behind the bonds office, but what Manny was giving off went way beyond teasing in an alley. He was fully prepared to back up his words with action, and all I needed to do was say the word for us to begin. But I also knew that if I said no, he'd back off without backing completely away. He wasn't going anywhere, but he was making it clear what was in my future if I was interested. And at the moment, I was definitely interested.

My hands around his shoulders loosened, knowing he wouldn't let me fall and giving me the ability to run them over his chest. He continued to nuzzle at the juncture of my neck, absolutely driving me crazy.

I was so distracted by the desire building between us that I completely missed the phone ringing until Manny let out a long breath and said, "I swear, when this is over, I'm going to tell them to take that damn cell phone and shove it."

I reached for the potential weapon in question and answered it, not bothering to move completely off Manny's lap. If he wanted me off, he'd have to move me. I was perfectly comfortable against the muscles of his body. He didn't seem to be terribly inconvenienced by having an extra hundred and thirty...well, maybe a pound or two more than that, sitting on his leg. When I answered the phone, Manny went right back to running his lips along my neck, moving my hair out of his way and tugging on it just enough to sting and remind me this was definitely real.

"I'm about a minute out," Cal said once I got the phone on. "Tank seems to think the shooting in front of the office was from the Hernandez family, perhaps to create a diversion of some sort. If they've attacked RangeMan, they know exactly who Manny is and they have the resources to stop at nothing to in order to get their hands on their intended target."

I stiffened slightly at that news, and Manny bit down where he had been running his tongue, effectively taking away my ability to concentrate on the new threat level.

I have to assume I also made a noise, because Cal interrupted himself to change conversation topics. "Are you all right?"

"Umhmm," I assured him.

"Ah, Steph?" Cal tried once more to get me concentrating on the phone and not Manny's teeth lightly grazing my throat.

The hand that wasn't holding the phone moved to his upper thigh and squeezed, trying to communicate how much I liked what he was doing. Manny responded with a groan, which Cal must have heard.

"Is Manny okay? He sounds like he's in pain."

Then I realized that we were basically making a porn soundtrack for the guy who had been sent here to keep us safe. That brought me back to reality enough for me to turn to Manny and say, "Cal wants to know if you're in pain. He said you sounded like you were."

"That depends on how soon he's going to be here," Manny spoke with his lips still hovering above my skin, allowing me to feel his breath as it left his mouth.

"He said one minute," I echoed what I thought I remembered Cal saying earlier.

"Then in that case, yes, I'm in pain, because you have created a problem that we don't have time to resolve," Manny replied, making me smile instead of feeling great pity for the problem he was blaming me for. Besides, the way my body was aching for him, I figured we were in similar situations with how we were going to be suffering once we had company.

Cal's voice snapped me out of the foggy place my mind had gone once more. "You guys know I can hear you, right? Am I really hearing you two make out, because that's…surprising."

"Hey," I replied, jumping to the conclusion that Cal was surprised Manny would be interested in me. "Why is it so shocking that somebody wants to make out with me?"

Cal chuckled, and Manny pulled back to read my expression, based on the anger now clouding my voice. "Angel, I'm not surprised he wants you. I'm surprised after all the hell he's put you through since you busted him out in New York that you're allowing him close enough to cause those kinds of noises."

"If you weren't so damn insistent on getting in the house soon, those noises would be the least of what I'd be making," I replied, perhaps sharing a little more than I should have.

Manny grinned like he'd just won the lottery, and Cal made a noise of his own to stop me from saying anything else.

"That is entirely too much information, Steph." Then he cleared his voice and said, "Seriously, I'm here now, so if you two can pull yourselves together, let me in."

I didn't hang up the phone, figuring RangeMan procedure was to just disconnect without saying goodbye anyway, so Cal was probably standing there waiting. Instead, I looked at Manny and said, "Cal's here. I have to let him in."

Manny leaned over and gave me one final tender kiss. He didn't allow it to grow or elevate, but every stroke of his lips felt like a caress against my mouth, and I wished we had more time to spend exactly like that. Despite what might be about to happen, I'd never felt more treasured than I did at that moment.

When he pulled back, I felt as though he had used those precious seconds to be sure I knew that he cared for me and that even though we weren't alone in the house anymore, he would be wishing that we were and waiting until this nightmare was over so that we could throw everyone out and get back to the part where he agreed to be my bedroom toy and plaything. He may not have said all of that, but it was a very powerful kiss, so I felt the need to lace it with a great deal of meaning.

I stood up and took a second to regain my balance and try to put my head back on straight. I went to the door and opened it to see Cal standing there with his hand over his eyes.

"Is it safe to look yet?"

"Get in here," I demanded, grabbing his hand and yanking it away from his face.

He came in, waited for me to rearm the system, and then pulled me to him in a hug. When he pulled back, his eyes fell to my neck and he looked temporarily surprised. "Do I need to hurt him for you?"

"What? Why would you need to hurt Manny?" I couldn't understand the question.

"Has he been taking advantage of the close quarters here?" Cal's eyes fell to my neck once more.

"I'm fine," I assured him, moving to the den, where Manny was still sorting out the arsenal from the duffle bags.

"Hey, man," Manny called out when we entered the room.

"I'm going to run down the hall for a minute," I announced, needing to see why Cal was so obsessed with my neck.

As I moved, I heard Cal ask, "Do I need to remind you that if you hurt her, even unintentionally, I'll kill you myself and hide the body before anybody at RangeMan knows to suspect you're missing?"

Manny gave a dry laugh and replied, "If I hurt her, then I'll dig the hole for you and lay down in it willingly."

There was a moment of silence before Cal lightened up and said, "Fair enough. What've we got here?"

Once they started discussing the bounty, I moved on to the bathroom.

One glance at the mirror showed me my hair was in definite need of taming, and where my neck and shoulder met, I was sporting my first hicky since college. How was I going to cover that up? I didn't pack concealer, not thinking that nursing someone who I believed was going to be confined to a bed was going to give me much cause for cover up.

I knew I didn't have any high neck shirts, so changing my clothes was out of the question. I needed to keep my hair down to have half a chance of covering it with some curls. Of course, with my hair not cooperating, now wasn't the time to wear it down, either.

I felt a slight pull on my hand and then recognized that cool sensation I now assumed was the touch of one of my great-grandparents. I allowed the sensation to move me to a drawer at the bottom of the vanity and opened it to reveal a whole host of long scarves. I remembered Nagymama used to wear them tied around her head with the colorful ends hanging down and realized that would be a great solution. I dug through them until I found one with lots of blues swirled in a pattern with red and yellow and then turned my head upside down to tie it at the back of my hairline with the long ends pulled to the side to cover my neck and flow over my shoulder. It fell perfectly and controlled my hair while covering up the mark Manny had so kindly bestowed upon me.

I'd never liked the idea of a guy doing that to me. It felt like some kind of branding, and so few men would let you return the favor that I didn't care for the sexist feel of it. But a part of me was definitely disappointed that I couldn't see it anymore. Something about the evidence of the moment we'd just shared being covered up made me sad. Then I realized we would soon be alone again without the shadow Tank had sent over and I could rip this scarf off and give him the chance to perfect his marking technique.

Most of the weapons were gone when I made my way back out to the den.

"What have you done with all the firepower that was here a minute ago?"

Manny looked up at me and gave me the sweetest smile, motioning for me to sit with him. He was on the couch, so I walked over, intending to sit beside him, but he grabbed my hand and pulled, making it clear he wanted me back in his lap as I had been.

Cal's eyes got much wider initially, but he quickly covered it up and started talking. "We split them up and hid a few strategically in places that we may need to get to if your location is compromised. Then I put a few extra on me, Manny's dressed, and it looks like you're sporting a few toys you don't usually play with."

At the mention of toys, I thought back to the discussion with Manny earlier and turned completely red. Cal seemed confused by my response but wisely kept his mouth shut about it.

Manny, however, lifted the ends of the scarf like he was searching for something he'd misplaced and then sighed in a contented way before allowing them to fall back over my shoulder. He leaned forward and whispered, barely loud enough for me to hear, "I like the material, but I hate the idea of you covering up what I just did to you. And as fair warning, I intend to use this scarf as something other than camouflage later."

If possible, my face turned even darker, so I decided to focus on Cal in the hope of keeping my brain engaged. "Can I get you something to eat or drink?"

Cal's brow wrinkled, like he was confused by the question, before he finally said, "I'd love some water if you have it."

I gave Manny a parting squeeze and made my way to the kitchen to grab a few bottles from the fridge. Before I could fill my hands, I felt that cool sensation tugging my hand once more, so I relaxed and tried to follow it, wondering what she was trying to show me this time. My hands fell to a cupboard I hadn't searched since arriving here, so I opened the door and found a stack of old, bright orange Tupperware containers. I was being moved to touch the second one in the third stack, so I carefully moved them in order to pull it out and set it on the counter, wondering what was so important in this box.

Carefully, I opened the lid and was slightly disappointed to see a bunch of dried leaves in there. "What do I do with this?" I whispered.

"When the time comes, you burn it and then run. The earth provides all we need to take care of us when we need it, and this will cover you when you are in danger," Nagymama spoke. I'd heard her talk about the earth providing, and found comfort in the familiar voices, but I didn't really understand what she meant. "Just a little is all you need."

My gut was practically screaming that this was important, so I grabbed a plastic bag from the counter, poured some in, and then searched until I found matches and tucked both in the pocket of my cargos.

Not sensing anything else, I picked up the bottles and went back to the join the guys in the den. They were discussing tactical positions around the house and were both looking at a map that had been made of the house in relation to the gardens out back, the shed where Nagypapa stored his tools at the rear of the yard, and then the woods surrounding the property that led to a small stream in the very back of the property.

I pointed to the stream and said, "I used to spend hours back there playing. It always made my mother mad, because I'd come back filthy dirty."

"What's beyond the stream?" Cal asked.

"More woods that abut another house over a mile away. You'd have to go several miles to get to a road of any substance," I explained from my memory, hoping the years hadn't changed things too much.

"Do you know the neighbors?" Manny followed up.

"No, I don't remember meeting them when I was young, and I haven't been back here since the house has been empty, so I have no idea who is there." I wondered why it mattered.

"We were just trying to figure out a safe place to meet up if something happens and we get split up," Manny explained.

I pointed into the woods and said, "If you head this way, maybe a hundred feet, there is an old tree house. You have to climb the tree next to it and then jump down to get to the house. Would something like that work?"

"How would we find it?" Cal wondered, apparently not trusting a vague finger point as a compass marker for direction.

"Well, it was bright red twenty years ago, so it may have faded, but something tells me it would still stand out," I tried suggesting as a guide.

"It's probably rotten by now, but there would be enough of it remaining to use as a landmark. We stay together – that's the plan – but sometimes plans go to shit, and if that happens, you get free of the fighting and make for the tree house," Manny commanded. "You stay there, completely out of sight, until Cal or I call for you. No matter what you hear, you stay there and keep yourself safe, okay?"

"I'll run if I have to, but I'm not promising to stay hidden if there is something I could do to help," I countered.

"Damn it, Stephanie, you can't put yourself directly into the line of fire with these people. They're coming here because of me, and I can't live with the idea of you getting hurt because of something from my past," Manny argued.

"Then let me help you end this so your past isn't hanging over our heads," I pushed. "I won't do anything reckless, but I'm not going to run and hide if there is something I can do to stop these people once and for all."

"This is what you meant when you said you could be pigheaded, right?" Manny questioned.

Cal seemed to be watching our conversation with a little amusement and a great deal of interest.

"Yes." I figured he deserved an answer. When Manny shook his head, which I accepted as him admitting defeat, I reminded him, "I did warn you."

Manny looked me in the eye and said, "And I know based on your words that I can trust you to stick with what you've said. You promised you wouldn't do anything reckless, and I have to trust that you will follow through on that."

"You have my word," I said, meaning it.

Before he could reply, I felt a jolt of cold on my back and then I heard Nagypapa's voice say, "You need to move now. Darkness is coming."

I glanced at Manny, whose jaw was flexing, which told me he'd heard the warning, too.

I placed a fast kiss on Manny's lips, not so much a romantic gesture as a threat that he'd better follow the same pledge to take care of himself.

Cal was looking at us like we'd lost our minds, so I warned him, "We have company coming, and I don't think it's from RangeMan."


	18. A Little Magic

_If you recognize them, then JE made them up._

_Jenny (JenRar) thank you for your constant and consistent work as the beta on this story._

**Chapter 18 – A Little Magic (Magia) **

"Call RangeMan and tell them to send in some teams," Manny told Cal. "There's no reason to worry about giving up our location. We're already compromised."

Cal looked unsure, but he didn't seem willing to bet our lives on it, so he yanked his cell phone up and called the office, telling them that all hell was going to break loose and we needed some serious backup.

As soon as he hung up, Cal asked, "How does anybody know where you are? I wasn't followed, and only RangeMan knows you're here."

"We'll figure that out later," Manny replied, standing up and looking around the room, as though searching for something.

"What do you need?" I wondered, willing to get anything for him.

"I'm trying to figure out if we'd be better off hanging tight and using the security of the house or trying to sneak out the back and hiding before they know where we are," Manny admitted.

"Why can't we just get in the car Cal brought and ride out?" I asked, wondering why they were ignoring the obvious solution.

Manny explained, "There's too great a chance they are close enough to cut us off, and if there's enough of them to surround us, it would be an easy slaughter. At least this way, we might have the chance to fight."

Cal looked around and suggested, "Getting to the trees seems like a much better plan than sitting here in a location they can destroy to flush us out. How fast can you go?" Cal asked Manny, looking at him holding his hand-carved cane.

"Not fast enough," Manny replied bluntly. "If they get here before we're hidden, just assume I'm down and you two head out."

"I'm not leaving you," I jumped in, realizing I was contradicting my previous promise.

"The hell you aren't," Manny pressed. "You said you'd go if you were in danger, and taking a slow stroll at my speed when there are armed men on the hunt is the epitome of danger. You'll go, and you'll not look back."

I didn't bother responding, not wanting to fight with him right before all hell broke loose. Instead, I looked down and said, "You don't have shoes."

He glanced at his feet as though that were a new discovery to him and then shrugged. "Don't know if I have any here, so I'll have to make due without."

"I can get some old slip-ons from Nagypapa's closet," I suggested.

Manny gave me a single nod, which I took as permission to try, so I took off to the back bedroom and hoped Grandma Mazur had kept the old work boots. Something told me the velvet slippers at the end of the bed wouldn't go over well, so I dug deep and found exactly what I'd hoped for. When I reappeared with a pair of well-worn, lace-up black boots, Manny looked shocked. By some miracle, they seemed to fit on his good foot, at least well enough to help protect him from whatever he was about to move through outside. I was able to get the other one on the foot of his casted leg, but lacing it up wasn't possible.

After getting him pulled together, Manny turned on the television and boosted the volume to a level just a fraction higher than I'd usually watch it, scrolling the channels to find a talk news program.

Cal went out the front; I rearmed it behind him and then waited until we heard him ripping the wood away from the rear entrance to fully open that door. I was shocked to see it was just getting dark, not pitch black yet, but there wasn't any sun left in the sky still, either. I'd been locked up without a cycle to my day for long enough that I'd lost touch with the difference of night and day.

"Let's move to the building and then into the woods from there. We can use it as cover if they get here before we're clear," Cal suggested.

I walked beside Manny, knowing he wouldn't let me help him but feeling the need to be there in case he stumbled on the uneven terrain. Once we stepped outside, I took a good look around and saw what used to be the garden. There were still lots of plants out there, many in raised beds and a few around the picnic table that I'd been dreaming about. The gravel path that used to flow gracefully between the many rows of blooms and greenery was nearly overrun with grass and weeds. Manny took one look at the table and stopped walking.

"Are you okay?" I worried that I should run back inside and try to get a few pain relievers to keep him moving.

Manny nodded his head toward the table and said, "Just surprised to see this place is real. I thought it was some made up garden in my dreams."

"Well, in my dreams, it looked the way it did when I was little, so there were a lot less weeds and much healthier looking plants, but yeah, it's real. It's just a far cry from its previous glory," I agreed.

We started moving once more, and just as we passed by the table Manny and I had both seen as we shared conversations while sleeping, that cool touch I was now beginning to identify as Nagymama's guiding hand pulled me to the side, and I found myself touching another plant. I didn't question it. I just snapped off a branch that held some odd looking pods, hoping whatever it was used for would become apparent when the time was right.

At the back of the garden was a fire pit, lined in brick that Nagypapa had built for bonfires at night. We'd roast marshmallows, cook food, and just sit and watch the flames long into the evening before he'd bring out his hurdy-gurdy and play some old folk tunes for us. Those were some of my favorite memories from my childhood, and I couldn't believe I hadn't thought about it until now. Before I could move around the circle, I heard Nagymama insist that I light the herbs in the pit I'd been thinking about.

"What?" I asked out loud, making Cal turn around and look at me like I'd lost my mind.

I could distantly hear a car on the road, so I knew I needed to be quiet, but her instructions made no sense.

"The leaves in your pocket, child. Throw them in there and strike a match," she instructed urgently.

I decided I had nothing to lose, so I looked at Manny and said, "Keep walking. This will only take a minute, and I can catch up."

Then I pulled the baggie from my pants pocket and dumped it all in the pit in a rounded pile before taking out the small book of matches and striking one. It took three tries before it finally lit, so I dropped the match into the dried material and hoped for whatever magic this was supposed to produce to work quickly.

Instantly, a thick plume of smoke began to rise, so I took off jogging until I caught up with Manny. When I glanced back, the smoke was spreading out in every direction, creating a heavy fog effect.

"What was that?" Cal asked, not irritated, just curious.

"I have no idea," I confessed, not willing to take credit for something I didn't know to do.

"It's called a cloak of confusion," Nagymama provided. "It will give you time to hide without them being able to see you."

I figured Cal wasn't able to hear her voice, so I told him, "It's an old gypsy trick to create confusion so that we have time to get out of sight."

"I wasn't a gypsy. Stop calling me that," Nagypapa stated rather firmly. "I was a carpenter who dabbled in the unexplainable and refused to conform to the rules everyone else lived under."

When I caught Manny's eye that time, he was smiling, which made me think he'd heard that weak attempt at clarification.

We were barely to the shed when we heard what I thought was three cars pull up to the house.

"RangeMan?" I asked, knowing that would be too good to be true.

Cal shook his head. "No, it hadn't been long enough, and those don't sound like our vehicles." Then he glanced back to the house, which was nearly hidden behind the great wall of smoke I'd made at the fire pit. "You two get in the shed and stay there. I'm going to cut into the woods and circle back to try to cut them off, creating the illusion that they're surrounded until the guys get here for real backup."

Manny nodded, so I didn't bother arguing that his plan sounded too risky for Cal.

"Be careful," I said, hoping he would take my words to heart.

"Ah, Angel, no worries. This will all be over soon, and then you can tell me how the hell you made that smoke without making a fire." With a final smile at me and a nod to Manny, Cal disappeared into the rapidly descending darkness of the night.

"He'll be fine," Manny assured me, pulling my hand so that we could get into the shed to hide.

I didn't argue the point because I was worried that they would see it as doubt in their abilities, but I was still worried about the guy that had been going out of his way to check on me since I'd been caring for Manny and had appointed himself my honorary big brother.

The shed was a lot emptier than I remembered. Nagypapa had lots of tools and the majority of them had been cleared out, but the tall metal shelves still lined all the walls, many filled with empty pots that had once been used to start seedlings for the garden. The garden itself may have technically been Nagymama's, but they both shared a passion for watching things grow.

At the ceiling were large beams that served as support for Nagypapa's wood that he stored to work with at a later date. It was hard to tell, but it looked like hundreds of pounds of timber was resting over our heads.

Manny looked out of the little window once we were inside and then said, "Help me push one of the shelves to block the front door."

We got the shelf moved to secure the door quickly, but I think that was because despite his injuries, Manny was still really strong and doing most of the work. Then he turned and looked at the back door and shook his head.

"We're going to have to leave that one open in case we have to make a run for it." Then he knocked on the walls and shook his head again.

"What's wrong?" I wondered.

"This building is made out of wood," he replied, as though he were suddenly a building inspector and this one didn't meet code.

"Yes," I agreed, "but it seems to be sturdy enough to hide in."

"If they decide to shorten their search time by just firing automatic weapons in this direction, the bullets will come right through," he explained, taking away the small amount of security I'd built up when we barricaded ourselves in.

"Hey, come here," he said, apparently noticing my bleached white skin at that less than assuring announcement.

Once he'd wrapped his free arm around me and pulled me tight against him, I stopped shaking and calmed down. If Manny ever decided to give up the whole security specialist and undercover ops day job, he had a promising future as a security blanket as a second career.

We could hear some voices, but they were in Spanish, so I didn't have a clue what they were saying.

Manny whispered in my ear, "They're splitting up with a couple of them taking the woods on both sides and a pair of them going into the house."

Surely that would buy us enough time for the cavalry to arrive riding in black RangeMan SUVs. But before I could convince myself that all would be well, I heard shouting again, but this time slightly closer.

"One of them is going to break off from the others and search the backyard, but the smoke is throwing them off." I could feel his chest shake when he said the last part. "Remind me to thank your grandmother for that later."

"You're welcome," came Nagymama's amused voice. "But it may not be enough. They're focused on finding you both."

I wondered how much she could see since she wasn't bound to a physical body the way we were. Maybe if we made it out of this alive, I'd ask her about it.

This time, when I heard the shouting, I could tell at least one of them was much closer to us. Then I heard gunfire to our right, but far enough away that it was in the woods.

"Cal," I whispered, wondering if those bullets were coming from his gun or flying at him.

Manny squeezed me slightly. "He'll be okay. We train for this kind of thing all the time, and he had enough of a head start to have scoped out a good position." Then he let me go and added, "You need to stay here, against the back wall, while I thrown them off a little."

"What are you going to do?" I asked as he pulled two round things from a pouch on his utility belt.

"I'm going to create a distraction," he replied with a hint of a smile on his face.

"With a ball?" I questioned, not sure if this was a good idea.

My lack of understanding only seemed to make his grin grow. "These are flash pods – more pyrotechnic than weapon, but when they hit the ground, they'll crack open with a bang and a few small bursts of light. If somebody isn't familiar with them, they will assume it's gunfire, which will pull them off of their current path and hopefully make them rush to find the mystery shooter. It's a temporary solution, but it might give Cal enough time to get away from whoever is on his trail."

I nodded, knowing we shouldn't waste any more time if he was trying to do this to help Cal.

"Can I do it?" I wondered, figuring my ability to run back to the shed would make me able to hide faster than Manny could.

"I doubt it," he replied, disappointing me. "If you don't get enough force behind the throw, they won't crack, and then we will have lost the ability to use them."

Understanding that he had to do it, I opened the door as silently as possible and flattened myself against the wall with the open door covering me and creating an extra layer to hide behind. I decided to try counting the seconds until he got back just to keep my mind occupied. At fifteen, I heard a series of pops far to the left of the shed, followed by some shouts that I didn't understand. By the time I got to thirty-one, there was an identical set of sounds to my right that garnered similar interest from the people searching for us.

The voices shouted back and forth, and then I heard several things all at once. There were definitely new vehicles pulling in at the front of the house, which were making no attempt to be quiet about their approach. If anything, they were intentionally drawing attention to themselves. I decided to claim those sounds were the teams from RangeMan and smiled, knowing that if they were here, this would all be over soon. The sounds I assumed were the bad guys got louder in response, as though they knew their time was limited here and they needed to act quickly to finish their assignment.

But my stomach dropped to my toes when I heard what I knew was Manny's voice screaming, "Run, Stephanie! Get the hell out of there."

I hesitated for a split second, unsure why he was yelling at me and giving away his location but trusting that he had a good reason to shout out a warning. I pushed the door away from me and moved around it to get out of the shed, when all kinds of guns began to sound. They were coming from so many directions, I couldn't figure out which way to run. I was too far away from the window to try to look for a clue, and the smoke that had been near the house was now drifting to envelop the shed, as well. This was like an ideal horror scene, where the evil that lurks in the fog comes to life and kills the girl too stupid to run away from it.

Before I could make a decision, I heard a strange whistling sound. There was a thrust of energy pushing me down, a sensation of something heavy on top of me, and then my world went black.

When I opened my eyes, I was sitting at the picnic table in the middle of Nagymama's garden. It was immaculate once again, and the sun was shining, making everything seem happy and inviting. When I saw her smiling at me, I decided I was perfectly content where I was and I no longer felt the need to argue with whether or not this was real or a dream. There was a small place in the back of my mind that was confused if this was in my unconscious or if that thrust of energy I could vaguely remember was actually me dying, but it didn't seem important enough to worry over right at the moment.

Nagymama reached across the table and took my hand in hers. I could feel her touching me, but this time, her hand didn't feel cool as it did when I was aware of her guidance around the house.

"Am I dead?" I asked, okay with the answer either way.

"No, child. You live, but you're sleeping right now," she told me.

"Am I going to wake up?" I figured that was a valid question, since her version of sleep might include a coma.

"Of course. There's no point in wasting your life sleeping all the time," she replied with a grin.

"Why am I here, then?" I wondered, hoping I wasn't being rude.

"Ah, always the curious one, aren't you?" she replied, reminding me of Grandma Mazur all of a sudden. "You are here because you need a place to be for a little bit while your body catches up. That was a big boom."

"I was in an explosion?" I asked, not remembering fire.

"No, just a big boom, and then Papa's shed fell and you went flying out and were buried under those horrible shelves and all that wood he refused to get rid of. I never liked those shelves. I used to beg him to make nice wood ones, but he never got around to it." She was getting distracted, and while I loved hearing her talk, I had a feeling there was something else she needed to tell me.

I thought back over her words, and something struck me as being important. "Wait, I'm buried alive?" That idea should have been more upsetting that it was.

"You have some rather uncomfortable covers at the moment, but you'll be okay," she assured me, silencing my questions.

Looking at the garden around us, I was sad that it didn't still look like this. "Your garden doesn't look this nice anymore," I admitted.

"But it lives still, that is all that matters," she assured me. "Don't let the outward appearance fool you about the treasure hiding underneath. A little work and a lot of love, and it will be beautiful again."

"Who's going to do that?" I foolishly asked.

Nagymama just looked at me, as though the answer were so obvious, it didn't warrant saying aloud. Then I realized she meant me. "Oh no, I don't garden. I'm not what you'd call domestic. I don't cook, I can't grow things, and I barely keep a clean apartment. Where I live now even has a rodent."

That last bit made her laugh, and she corrected me. "Your Rex would be upset to hear you call him a rodent. But he doesn't live there anymore, no?"

"How do you know about Rex?" We seemed to have all the time in the world, and there were definitely things I wanted to know. Strangely, talking about him now didn't fill me with that twinge of pain that it had before this point.

She raised a hand to make a gesture, as though it were simple, and then confessed, "Edna comes by every month and talks to us. She loves to regale us with stories of your adventures."

"Every month?" I hadn't realized she came by that often. I guessed that explained why the house was so clean.

"When she had Helen, I was overjoyed at the idea of having another girl to pass on the knowledge of our family in how to live with the help of the earth. But Helen was much like her father and was very scientific, refusing to show any interest, except in the kitchen. She did love to cook, so I gave up teaching her about the life in the plants and taught her about the kitchen instead. Then Valerie came along, and I tried once more, but she was just like her mother. It was like they were twins just born many years apart."

Nagymama seemed lost in her story, so I patiently waited to see what she wanted me to know.

"Then a few years later, you were born, and from the moment I first held you, I knew you would be the one to finally take an interest, because you were not bound by the rules of your mother and you seemed to thrive more and more with time outside. But I waited too long to begin teaching you, and my age caught up with me. I did not worry, because I knew the circle of life would give me a chance to help you later, and here we are. You have the magia heart, which is what allows you to feel me with you, and I will teach you now."

"Right now?" I blurted out, wondering why a biology lesson was important if I was buried under rubble from the building I'd been hiding in.

"Just a little," she replied. "The plant you picked on the way to the shed has some long pods on it, like beans."

"I remember," I assured her. "I wasn't sure why it was important, so I picked it and shoved it in my back pocket."

"When you wake up, pull off one of the pods, crack it open, and then eat the meat from inside," she instructed. "It will not taste good, but eat it anyway."

"Why?" If I was going to be forced to eat something gross, I was going to need a better motivation than "because I said so."

"It will give you a fast burst of energy, and you will be able to make enough noise to respond to the men searching for you. It was dark when the building collapsed, and they don't know if you got out and ran into the woods or if you were covered in the rubble. They are going to look for you, but it's very dark and the smoke that helped you to hide keeps them from searching well," she explained, providing the motivation.

"So it's like adrenaline," I clarified, trying to put it into a term I could relate to.

"Close enough," she replied, not taking away my understanding, but not exactly confirming it, either.

"Once you are ready, come back here to this spot, and we will begin your lessons so that you understand each of the plants in the garden and how to care for them so that they can provide for you," she told me as she let go of my hand.

Once the connection was broken, the image of her began to grow more faint, until she was just a cloudy outline in front of me. "Nagypapa said to have Manny put a rubber bottom on his lovely cane. There's some rubber in the basement in his work bench. Manny is welcome to anything he needs. It's been a joy to see someone working with wood in the house again." And with those parting words, she disappeared completely. The vision I had of the gardens at their peak began to fade, as well.

I felt my body jump, like I had received a bad scare, and then realized I wasn't able to move. I was about to panic, hating the feeling of being in enclosed spaces especially after I'd been stuffed in a casket by a crazy man intent on killing me. Then my mind began to clear, and I could hear the sounds of people close by, calling out for flashlights and saying my name. There was also someone repeating soothing phrases like, "You need to calm down, man," and "Everything's going to be fine, just wait and see."

But it was a single voice that brought me out of my cloudy confusion and back to reality. Manny sounded beyond distraught as he screamed out my name, and then, probably tired of being told to calm down, he said, "Screw you. I'm not calming down. That's my wife that's missing, and I have to find her."

"Your wife? Don't make me have to knock you out," Bobby replied, obviously sensing the panic Manny was under and figuring the stress wasn't good for him in light of all his body had been through the last few weeks and it was making him crazy.

"You'll be picking your teeth up off the ground if you come at me with a needle," Manny replied, his voice hardened with the strain of all that had happened and the stress of not knowing where I was or if I was alive.

I was able to get a hand loose and moved it slowly to my back pocket, where the branch I'd snapped off during our hasty retreat was tucked away. It was slow going, but I finally got it up to my face and pulled off one of the bean-looking pods, using my teeth and my free hand to pull it open. I gave it a sniff, not finding it offensive nor inviting, and then pulled out the pulp on the inside to eat it as Nagymama had instructed. Of course, she had to be right about it not tasting good, but I refused to be deterred and kept going, feeling more alert with every vile bite. Once I'd gotten all I could from the shell, I dropped it and took a breath as deep as I could manage with the weight on top of me.

I did a quick body check to see if anything felt broken or injured. Nothing was screaming in pain, I was just really uncomfortable, so I figured it was safe to try moving. Despite the energy I had, I still couldn't manage to get up from the pile of stuff on top of me, so I decided to call out instead. I let out a few weak attempts of, "Help," but no one could hear me.

Then I had an idea and quietly said. "Nagypapa?"

"I'm here," his tender voice replied. "I cannot lift the things on top of you," he disappointed me by stating.

"Can you help?" I wondered, not sure what other options I had.

"All you had to do was ask," he replied. A cool touch on my head made me think he had placed a kiss there as he used to. "I'll get Manny. He will help you."

"Manny's kind of busy at the moment, fighting with the guys," I warned him.

Laughter was his initial response, before adding, "I have my ways of getting through to him."

It took only a matter of seconds before I heard Manny, in a much calmer voice, telling the guys to be quiet.

Once I heard them settle down, I tried to call out once more. "Manny!"

It took three tries before I felt like they'd picked up on my call. I could hear them call back for me to be still and they'd get me out of there. Then someone, maybe Tank based on how deep the voice was, told Manny to talk to me and keep me awake while they got me free.

I just relaxed and listened to his voice promise me that everything was going to be all right. He told me they'd gotten all of Hernandez's men, and I nothing to worry about. Then he shifted tactics and said, "I'm thinking since we're technically married, we have some big time decisions to make, and I need your help in making them."

Just as he said that, something major was lifted, and I finally felt like I could push myself up, thrilled to feel the small pieces of rubble and debris fall off of me when I moved.

As soon as I could focus, I found Manny's face and smiled to let him know I was all right. "What kind of decisions?" I pushed.

"I'm thinking that I was in the hospital when we should have been on our honeymoon, so maybe we should start with how to fix that oversight," he replied with a grin.

I could feel the adrenaline wearing off – or the tiny pod I ate was short-lived – but the thought of having a honeymoon with Manny was more than enough to keep me awake. If we could just get rid of all the guys in black staring at us, my body was more than ready to get started on that right now.


	19. Debrief

_JE created the characters below. I definitely deserve no credit for that stroke of brilliance._

_Jenny (JenRar), you take the role of beta to a totally different level so that the title doesn't really fit what you do. Unfortunately, I think calling you the "grammar correcting, sentence structuring, run-on ending, punctuation guru, phrase re-worder and general plot suggesting queen" might be a bit of a long title to type out each day. _

**Chapter 19 - Debriefing**

While I had been completely focused on Manny, the guys had moved enough of the old scrap wood and shelving that I could stand up. My legs were shaky, but I felt like they could manage to get me into the house at a bare minimum, so I moved to where Manny was leaning on his cane and nodded to the house.

He looked down at his leg and then seemed really upset as he admitted, "I'm sorry I'm not enough of a man to carry you inside."

"Enough of a man?" I repeated, always hating it when he referred to his injuries as somehow equating with a decrease in his manliness.

"Yeah... You were just buried under rubble and seem to be barely making one foot move in front of the other. I think this would be an ideal time to have someone carry you," he explained.

"I know it's one of those romantic things that all women are supposed to want," I began as we slowly made progress toward the house. "But in all honesty, it's never done that much for me. It makes me feel helpless, which isn't my favorite emotion."

"No," he quickly agreed, obviously knowing all about the feeling of helplessness.

"Besides, I'd rather have you by my side any day," I added, fully planning on blaming the stress of the last hour for any corny thing I said right now.

The back door of the house was open, so we moved right in and settled ourselves side by side on his bed in the middle of the den. In the back of my mind, I thought that we were both dirty from being outside and we were ruining his sheets, but I couldn't make myself care enough to get up and do anything about it.

My head fell on Manny's shoulder, and I shut my eyes, pretending it was just the two of us, the way we'd spent so much time since we first arrived in this house. The noise around us as the guys began to move in and out of the house was easy enough to filter.

Bobby was the first one to attempt speaking to us. "All right, you two. Let me take a look at you to see what the damage is."

He started with me, poking and prodding, cleaning a few gashes, but announced that nothing seemed to be broken and the cuts weren't deep enough to need stitches. "You're going to have some wicked bruising, but other than a few days of soreness, you'll survive."

Then he eyed Manny and said, "Dude, for all you've been through, I can't figure out how you were up and walking around, much less firing on hostiles and taking them down."

Manny's mouth gave a half smile before he said, "I've always been a fast healer, and Steph's taken really good care of me." Then he leaned closer to my ear and whispered, "And don't think I haven't noticed the stuff you've been floating in my bath and sticking in my smoothies. I'm guessing some of your gypsy magic is probably the case for some of it, too."

I couldn't help but repeat Nagypapa's words and said, "I'm not a gypsy." But my attempt to feign righteous indignation was foiled by the grin on my face.

"That's too bad. Since we got inside, I've been picturing you in a gypsy outfit, with your hair tied up in another of those colorful scarves," he teased.

Bobby was looking at the two of us as though we'd lost our minds. "The last time I was here, I was worried that I might receive a call to come and patch one of you up from the atmosphere turning ugly. If I didn't know any better, I'd say the tide turned the opposite direction and something happened all right, but it wasn't violent."

I looked at Manny, hoping he would respond, because I didn't want to say too much. We hadn't had a chance to discuss what was going on between us and how we wanted to present it to the guys.

"Let's just say I finally got over being pissed off about being locked up here and realized how generous you guys had been in who you chose to take care of me," he offered cryptically.

"Glad you changed your mind," Bobby replied firmly.

"Not a change of mind," Manny looked away from the medic and at me to add, "I had a change of heart."

Having Manny's attention focused solely on me caused me to miss any reaction Bobby might have had before he walked away. There was an intensity in his gaze that made me want to shut my eyes. I'd never been on the receiving end of such devotion and I wasn't sure what to do with it. I decided to put my head back on his shoulder as a way to end the eye contact.

The next thing I was aware of were voices around me, speaking in lowered tones, and I could tell that Manny had shifted us so that my head was on his chest and his arm was wrapped around me.

Tank's voice was easy to pick out when he said, "So how did you guys know to get out of the house?"

Ah, the RangeMan debrief. I figured I should probably rouse myself and participate, but I was overwhelmed with a feeling of exhaustion, and it felt so good to just go limp against Manny that I couldn't make myself open my eyes.

I was touched that when he answered Tank's question with one of his own, that he kept his voice low and quiet to keep from waking me. "A better question is why did we have to get out of the house in the first place? There's no way Hernandez connected me to this location without help."

A thickly accented voice spoke next that I was pretty sure belonged to Hector. "Estephania sent me a check on Hernandez, and told me to pass it along to Jefe. When I looked at it, one of the family names belonged to a new guy on monitors. I think he told his family so they could find you."

"Shit," Manny replied, summing up how I felt about it too. "Is he still employed?"

"No," Tank quickly replied. "He's not employed, and he's not likely to be seen or heard from again either."

There was a second of silence in response to that. I probably should have been upset that it seemed like Tank was implying a guy lost his life for turning in our hide away location, but when I dug deep I didn't have any regret, only relief. Then Tank changed the subject, "So that explains why someone showed up here, but I still don't know how you guys knew to get out of the house."

Cal spoke up first. "We had been planning out what made the most sense and decided to move out to the back yard in case we got company before you guys made it here."

"But you called the control room and requested backup," Tank replied. "How did you know to do it?"

"Steph said we were about to have company, and that was good enough for me," Cal replied.

"How did she know?" Tank pushed for more information.

"You know her spidey sense," Manny answered, not disclosing the fact that we were both hearing the voices of my deceased great-grandparents, who had tipped us off in time to get out.

"How did you guys have time to hook up a smoke bomb like that in the backyard? Hell, I haven't seen fog that thick except at the movies. That's probably why they weren't able to just storm the backyard and find you before we got here."

Cal offered, "That was all Steph, too. She had some kind of dried leaves that she set on fire, and they just billowed out plumes of smoke. It was pretty cool."

I could tell from the sound Tank made in response he wasn't going to push anymore, but he wasn't totally impressed with the answer, either. "Then who the hell was the guy that seemed to be leading the attack? How was he attached to the Hernandez family?"

This time, Manny spoke, and I could feel his body tense up as soon as Tank mentioned the family. "That was Juan Hernandez, the cousin of Mateo."

"The guy that Ranger took out this afternoon?" Tank interrupted, but since he gave me a piece of information I was curious about, I was glad to hear it.

"Him," Manny agreed with a single word.

Tank followed up, "And was his cousin somebody important?"

"Seemed to be his enforcer based on the search Steph ran a couple of weeks ago. My guess is that with the elimination of him and the whole force he brought with him, a strong enough message has been sent to whoever attempts to take over the Hernandez family next," Manny explained.

"I take it his beef with you was of a personal nature," Tank offered a leading question, and I knew a simple yes would have ended the discussion. These guys and their tight-lipped allegiance to each other was amazing. If they were all women, this conversation would be so much further along by now.

Manny's chest rose and fell as he took a deep breath before responding. "Our paths had crossed a few times on missions I'd run with Ranger for the DEA, but the reason he tried to take me out was completely personal. He blamed me for ending the relationship he had with my sister several years ago."

"How did you bust them up?" Tank wondered.

"I told her truth of who her boyfriend was, and when she dumped him, he tracked her down and put a bullet in her head," Manny explained flatly. He had definitely come to terms with the loss of his sister since he'd been here, but discussing her death wasn't easy, either.

"Any other loose ends from the family RangeMan can help tie up?" Tank offered.

That single sentence was why I loved these guys so much. Somebody had hurt the family of one of them, which was a wound to the whole RangeMan group. They'd do anything to finish this off to right the wrong and make up for the loss of an innocent life.

"I'm pretty sure this will do it, but thanks for the offer," Manny replied, sounding surprised.

"So were they after you or after Stephanie?" Tank wondered. "You, I get, but the fact that somebody took out the building makes me a little unsure that you were all they were after."

"I'm pretty sure they came here with instructions to get us both. Most likely to take her out so that I could see it just to make me suffer all the more, but I saw the bastard when he attempted to take aim so that Steph could begin to move. Then I got him in the leg so that when he fired, his aim was off and he destroyed the building by hitting the foundation, not by shooting into the room itself. I hadn't considered the building being barely stable and collapsing on her in the process."

So now I knew why he yelled for me to run and how the shed came to be _on_ me instead of _behind_ me.

"One more thing," Tank surprised me by saying. "What's the deal with you calling her your wife? I know we set it up that way to get you out of the hospital, but the way you said it while the dust was still settling made it sound a hell of a lot more personal than just an electronic filing."

Strangely, the question seemed to relax the tension that had built up in Manny's body while he was discussing the Hernandez family. I would have thought it would have made it worse, so I continued to play like I was dead to the world and waited to hear the answer.

"It's been an intense few weeks," he tried to get away with as an explanation.

"True, but that tells me nothing," Tank argued.

Then Lester jumped in with his unmistakable playful voice. "What he should have said was he finally realized what the rest of us have known for years, and while they were stuck in here together, he couldn't help but fall under the spell she's got the rest of us under."

I expected Manny to either ignore that comment or shoot it down by disagreeing. Instead, he said, "The first part was close enough to what really happened, but the spell I'm under better be a lot different from the one you guys fell for, or there's going to be some serious battles at the gym when I'm back."

"Shit, you two…" Les must have gotten the point. "I mean, not just because of the cover, but for real?"

"Yeah, for real," Manny replied, basically outing us to the guys all at once. At least now I didn't have to worry about how he wanted to handle things at the office.

"Boss man is going to kill you," Lester responded. "I mean dead."

"That would be a total waste of all the effort to save his life," came a voice I knew nearly as well as my own.

My eyes blinked open, and I grinned. "Ranger, you're back."

I felt Manny getting all tight and stiff again, which was definitely not what I wanted. Too late, I realized he was probably worried about what was going to happen between us now that Ranger was here. I knew he'd heard me explain that Ranger and I would never have a romantic relationship, but that didn't mean he believed Ranger saw it the same way.

I felt his fingers brush my hair away from my face and tuck some of it behind my ear in a motion he'd performed hundreds of times. I guess the scarf that had been keeping it back had gotten pulled off with the blast outside.

"You okay, Babe?" he asked. Despite seeing me for himself, he obviously needed to hear that the assignment he'd pulled me in for hadn't caused me any permanent damage.

"Nothing a band aid won't fix," I replied, loving to tease him for his famous comment about the first bullet wound he got when we were together.

He nodded and then glanced over at Manny so quickly, I nearly missed it, before repeating the question. "You okay, Babe?"

Getting that he needed to hear from me that things between me and Manny were okay, I moved so that I had a hand on Manny's chest near his heart and said, "Better than I've ever been."

His eyes narrowed marginally, like he was doing some kind of superhero lie detector trick, so I patiently waited for his analysis to finish. Once he'd satisfied himself that I was telling the truth, he shifted his gaze to Manny, and his whole body language changed. The relaxed man who cared deeply for me was completely gone, and the machine capable of inflicting great pain with no warning had taken his place.

"You hurt her, and I'll kill you, slowly and painfully. Are we clear?"

I couldn't let him threaten Manny like that, so I asked, "Why didn't you ever say something like that to Joe?"

That question earned me a raised eyebrow. Manny spoke up before I could push him again for the answer.

"I hurt her, and you'll have to get in line to make good on that promise."

A chorus of responses, including, "Damn straight," and "I got dibs," rang out, with Lester ending it by summing up, "Hooah!" Apparently, that said it all, without saying anything intelligible to me.

"As long as we're clear," Ranger replied after the guys quieted down.

"Hernandez?" Manny asked.

"Taken care of," Ranger assured him.

"Thanks, man," Manny replied, proving once again that these guys refused to use multiple words when they thought just one or two would do.

A slight shrug from Ranger was the only response to the gratitude. "I've got a debriefing to get to in DC. I'll be back in a few days. You two going to head back to Haywood for a while?"

I looked up at Manny, completely okay with whatever he wanted to do but wishing we had a little more time here without the boards on the windows and the threat of certain death if we ventured outside.

It was such a relief to hear him say, "I think we'll hang here for a few days to get over everything and then head back into work next week."

Ranger nodded and then leaned over and kissed my hair to give him a better proximity to whisper, "You can trust him, Babe. Now that his drive for revenge is over, he can give you the kind of future you deserve."

"And if he doesn't?" I couldn't handle being serious right now, and even though I knew Ranger and I were only friends, I wasn't completely comfortable discussing my romantic life with him.

"Then introduce him to the things your knee can do," he replied with a sexy wink.

"Did you set this up?" I asked before I fully considered the question.

"I'm no cupid," he answered, struggling to keep from smiling, which made me wonder all the more if my recent hunch that there might have been an easier way to care for Manny had been correct, but he had some other motive for calling me instead. Of course, the idea of Ranger as cupid was kind of funny so I couldn't help but grin at the image of Ranger in red tights, holding a bow and arrow set.

He was ten steps away before I thought of one more thing and called out, "Ranger, wait."

Ranger spun around and waited for what I needed to say.

"I should give you this ring back. I understand it came from your safe."

Then I got a full-fledged grin, the kind he held back for special occasions. "Keep it, Babe. It looks good on you."

"I can't accept a ring like this from you," I blurted out, somehow forgetting that we were still surrounded by the guys from the office.

"I didn't pick it out, and if you have any questions about where it came from, ask the man next to you. As far as I'm concerned, you keeping it now makes a lot more sense than it continuing to sit in a safe," Ranger said with an edge of finality that told me I needed to let it go until I had the whole story. Of course, the fact that he practically disappeared in the next second took away my ability to argue the point, so I had to choice but to let it go.

Manny was suddenly finding the texture of the cast on his arm very interesting.

"Are you going to explain what that was all about?"

"Can I do it later?" He sounded almost unsure of himself. "When our audience isn't as big."

"Fine," I conceded, before reminding him, "But don't think I'm going to forget that you promised to tell me."

He tightened his arm around me and said, "Don't worry; I've spent enough time with you to realize you don't forget a thing. Especially not something you're interested in."

Tank had a few more questions for the file, and Manny convinced a few of the guys to start yanking the wood panels off the windows, allowing light in the house for the first time in twenty years. The sun was just coming up, and I smiled as a beam came into the room and landed on the carpet.

Cal let out a long whistle and looked around. "With the light in here now, you can totally see the effect they were going for. I mean, this place is a little on the bright side, definitely retro, but it feels homey all at the same time."

I looked around, as though seeing the room for the first time, and got what he meant. I wasn't blind about how out of date the décor was, but at the same time, there was a comfort in it, and it made me want to smile instead of cringe.

"You want me to make arrangements to get the bed out of here?" Bobby asked, pointing to the spot where we were currently stretched out.

Manny answered for me. "That'd be good. I'm tired of the reminder."

"Man, you have any idea how close you came to not needing a nurse but needing a mortician instead?" Bobby pushed, apparently needing to drill in how close Manny had come to dying.

"I get it," Manny replied, not happy with that topic of discussion.

"And don't think just because the hospital bed is disappearing that you're all clear. When that cast comes off in a few weeks, you're going to have a hell of a lot of work to do to see what you can demand of that leg," Bobby wasn't exactly trying to sugar coat Manny's prognosis.

"But in the meantime, as long as he isn't hurting, he can walk or do whatever he wants to, as long as he's mindful of the pain?" I asked, hoping he'd say yes.

"Sure, but that doesn't change what he'll need to work through." Bobby didn't seem to get the message that I wanted to change the subject.

I decided a more direct approach was going to be required. "Good. Then you all need to get out," I abruptly announced.

"Oh, come on," Cal pretended to complain. "I was hoping we could set up a table and have a great night of poker."

"Later, I promise, but for now, you guys probably all have a mountain of paperwork to file, and I'm exhausted, so you have to get out." I pretended to be firm in my resolve to clear the house, hoping they wouldn't push and see how quickly I'd cave.

There was a low level of grumbling when I mentioned paperwork, but no one pushed the point, and the ones who remained in the house began to gather up to leave.

I eased myself up and walked them to the front door.

Tank stopped just before leaving and said, "Turn the alarm on and lock up behind us. You guys aren't in any danger that we know of, but he'll rest better knowing that RangeMan's keeping you covered."

I agreed, and just as the big guy walked out of the house, I remembered something. "Hey, Tank..." I waited for him to turn around so I'd know he was listening. "I know that while this was a safe house of sorts, you had the ability to listen in and record any conversation that happened, right?"

Ever the efficient communicator, he nodded once.

"Can you kill that feed now?" I asked, hoping for once, the guys would respect my need for privacy.

A slow grin spread over his face, and he replied, "I'll make sure Hector takes care of it right away. I take it you're tired of the jigsaw puzzles and are looking for some other form of entertainment."

I laughed at the unexpected joke and then stepped back into the house. "I think it's safe to say we're not going to be doing puzzles and leave it at that."

That just increased the volume of his laugh as he turned and moved smoothly to the waiting SUV. I waited to see them pull away from the house and then turned back and set the alarm as I'd promised.

Manny was getting himself back to a standing position when I came into the den, so I moved to his side and asked how I could help.

"I'm not staying in this bed anymore," he announced. "And Bobby assures me this cast can get wet," he explained, pointing to his leg. "So as long as you can help me cover the one on my arm, then I'd love the chance to shower."

"Wrapping that up will be easy," I assured him, before taking the chance to ask for something in return. "But you're going to have to tell me the story behind these rings before I do anything."

"Aw shit... You'd hold a man's shower hostage when he hasn't been able to get completely clean in weeks, just to get a story about a piece of jewelry?" he attempted to sway me.

"I'll turn the water off from the wall since I know you can't get down on your knees to turn it back on," I threatened, to show him just how serious I was. Then I held up my left hand and demanded, "Start talking."

He laughed, which helped me to relax that my demanding approach wasn't pissing him off. "We've only been married a few short weeks, and you're already nagging me for stuff."

"This is just the tip of the iceberg," I warned him, before shutting my mouth and attempting a look that would make it clear I was willing to wait all day if necessary to get the information I wanted.

"All right, I'll tell you," he admitted, grinning as he accepted defeat. "But it's not an exciting story."

"Don't care. I just need to know the truth of how these rings came to be in Ranger's safe at Haywood and why he'd say it made sense for me to keep them in light of everything that's happened," I pushed once more.

Manny took a deep breath and then started talking. "We had a short window to prepare our cover this time. Ranger never goes into a mission without at least one exit strategy. He told me he needed a set of wedding rings in case he needed to manufacture a wife to get out of town if things turned on us. We'd used an emergency call from home before, so I didn't have a reason to question his motives. Then he gave me a list of supplies to pick up the day before we left, and on the bottom of the list, he told me to go to Masterson's Jewelers and get an engagement ring and wedding band that would be obvious to anyone who saw the woman's hand. When I questioned him about it, he said it was just to be sure every possible base had been covered. Then he gave me the size and told me to pretend I was picking out something for you."

At that point, I could have sworn his face colored slightly.

"How long did it take you to find this?"

He looked down and lifted a shoulder, trying to pretend it was no big deal.

"How long did it take?" I repeated, unwilling to let him get away with putting me off.

"Two hours," he admitted, before saying, "But only because the guy working with me insisted on showing me each set individually instead of letting me look at them all at once."

"So you picked out this ring for me?" I asked, trying to be sure I understood him correctly.

"I picked it out because Ranger told me to, but I tried to pick something that would be noticeable like he said and still fit your personality."

"But you didn't really know me," I pointed out. "How did you think it fit my personality?"

"I tried to keep my distance, figuring of all the guys at RangeMan that would be capable of keeping you safe, I was the least qualified," he confessed. "If I couldn't protect Laney, then I definitely wasn't up to the challenge of keeping you safe. But that doesn't mean I didn't still watch you, that I didn't smile every time I heard about one of your exploits, or get pissed every time a skip got the better of you."

"You said you didn't see me as an angel and that you didn't hold the same opinion of me that the other guys did," I reminded him of his harsh words when he first woke up and found out he was stuck with me.

"Damn, I was hoping you'd forget that part of our time together," he admitted, seeming to regret what he'd said.

"I'll never forget it," I felt the need to inform him.

"I was a real ass, and yet, you didn't give up on me," he replied, moving to touch my face. "And I still don't see you as an angel, just because I'm hoping you have a bit more mischief in you than that. But the last part is probably true."

Before I could get upset about what that could mean he plowed on. "Because while they see you as an amazing woman, I see you as that plus a whole lot more. Hopefully, I see sides of you that they've never gotten the chance to see. I'd like to think that I know you better than anyone else."

"Well, I don't know if you can lay that claim yet, but hopefully by the time we get back to Haywood, it will be true," I teased, smiling to let him know that I liked his answer.

"Now, I think I owe you a shower," I said, attempting to change the subject.

"That you do," he replied, following me down the hall. "And I'm going to need help getting clean, because I'm feeling really dirty, and once I'm done, I don't plan on getting up from bed again for quite some time."

For some naughty reason, my mind went back to my childhood, and I remembered the *bubble bath I was occasionally allowed to use that had the slogan, "Makes getting clean almost as much fun as getting dirty." After this shower, I didn't think I'd be able to look at a bottle of bubble bath the same ever again.

_*That was the slogan on ever pink bottle of Mr. Bubble, a bubble bath for kids. Obviously, I don't get credit for the catchy slogan either._


	20. Happily Ever After and Beyond

_JE deserves the credit for the wonderful characters below._

_Jenny (JenRar) thank you for sticking with me as the beta on another story. I can't believe the work you put into shining the rough work I send to you, but I can attempt to tell you how very grateful I am._

**Chapter 20 – Happily Ever After and Beyond**

We showered, which took a while, as he seemed to think I needed a good scrubbing, too. Only getting out once the water began to cool, I got us both dried off and then led us to the colorful room we'd stayed in earlier.

He took one look at the full-size bed and asked, "How big is the master bed?"

"It's a queen," I replied, turning and moving us in that direction.

Grandma Mazur had done a good job of cleaning out most of their things while still leaving enough there to make it seem like the room I remembered from my childhood.

Manny took one look around and wondered, "Would it be too weird to stay in here?"

I walked over to the closet and pushed the clothes to one side, making it look nearly empty, and then closed the shuttered doors. I glanced around at a few of the knickknacks, moved their watches and personal effects to the top of the chest of drawers on one side, and then smiled. "I think I can handle it." Then I decided to tease him. "Why? Are you afraid I'd be too close to you if we got in the smaller bed?"

"No," he quickly answered, removing my ability to pretend that was the reason. "It just seemed wrong to make you crawl in and out the bottom of the bed, especially since I know you're going to be sore soon."

We settled with me on his good side and then promptly fell asleep.

I awoke a few hours later and watched him sleep, surprised at how content that made me feel. There was no antsy feeling to get up and do something; it was just a peaceful thing to watch the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

My hand got away from me without me even considering it and began to trace the shape of his face, trying to memorize the look and feel of him through my fingertips. I knew the moment he woke up fully because he smiled without opening his eyes.

"That almost tickles," he said with a voice rough with sleep.

I started to jerk my hand away, not wanting to tickle him while he was waking up, but he grabbed my wrist and made a sound that told me he didn't want me to pull away. "I said it almost tickled, not that you needed to stop."

So I put my fingers back on his face and picked up where I left off.

"I forgot to tell you that Nagypapa said for you to put some rubber on the bottom of your cane." I spoke softly as my fingers traced over his nose and up and his cheeks. "There's some in the basement. You're welcome to any of the supplies down there you want."

"Is that your invitation or his?" Manny asked, his voice low and relaxed.

"I'm just the messenger here," I replied, letting my fingers veer off his face and into his hair.

"I'll do it," he responded. "Later."

"Good. I'd be insulted if you got up right now to start," I warned him, envious of the soft silky feel of his hair.

We began to talk, sharing stories of our childhoods and our more recent history, as well. It seemed there was no subject off limits.

"I like talking to you," he blurted out in a lull in the conversation.

"You sound surprised."

"I am," he admitted. "I knew it was easy to talk to you in my dreams, but then I told myself it was because it wasn't real. Now that I'm pretty sure I'm awake, it's still easy to do."

Understanding exactly what he meant, I decided to push the limits of his full disclosure and said, "You called me your wife in front of the guys."

"You are," he answered. "The electronic file is there, and it can't be touched at least until the firestorm from the DEA has died down. And I'm going to use every minute from now until then to try to convince you to just let it stay."

"But it's not real," I pointed out.

"Why?" He grew serious, and I began to wonder how much he'd thought about this. "Because we didn't have a big ceremony that cost ridiculous amounts of money?"

"No, that isn't what makes a marriage real," I said, defending my question.

"Then what does it take?" He backed off, waiting for me to answer.

"Well…" This proved to be harder than I thought. "I guess it takes love, commitment, and a desire to want to be with a person for the rest of your life."

He pushed the hair away from my face and got my attention on him before speaking in return. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you – only you – and if you'll let me, I'll love you with everything that's in me, stopping at nothing to see that you're happy and supported in everything you want to do."

My eyes were threatening to tear up, so I tried blinking quickly and looking up at the ceiling to keep the moisture from running down my checks. "And it takes witnesses to make it official."

Manny looked around, obviously wanting to put this whole notion to rest right now.

Before he could say anything, we heard Nagypapa speak. "You've got two witnesses right here."

I shook my head, seeing that all my roadblocks were being knocked down.

"Do you want to know what I think?" Manny turned the tables on me.

I nodded and waited for him to speak.

"I think it takes two people who see in each other a person they respect and admire to the point that they think of their partner's wholeness and happiness ahead of their own. I think it takes two people who realize what they have is precious and will do all they can to protect it. And I think those things will take the love they have for each other and grow it. When you have all of that, being married or not is really just a legality – not a necessity," he explained.

"I agree," Nagymama put in her vote. "Give him a chance."

I couldn't help but laugh at my great-grandparents' interference. "Didn't you mention giving us privacy when we needed it?"

"Sure," Nagypapa admitted, before correcting me, "But you're not taking advantage of it, so we figured you needed a little push in the right direction."

I touched Manny's face once more and said, "If we asked Ranger, do you think he'd leave our marriage alone and let us claim the status without having to go through a dog and pony show?"

"If it's what you wanted, I can guarantee he'd do it," Manny responded with no hesitation. "Is that what you want?"

I took a deep breath, figuring it seemed too good to be true but willing to take a chance on it anyway. "Yes, it's what I want."

"Then in that case, is there any way I can convince you to keep your name as Stephanie Ramos?" He stretched his face up to kiss me.

"I do like the sound of it," I admitted, grinning as he attempted to capture my lips with his.

"Do you think they'll keep popping up like that?" Manny asked once I stopped giggling and finally kissed him.

"My family isn't really known for respecting boundaries, so my guess is yes, we shouldn't be surprised by it." I wish I knew the answer. "Does it bother you?"

He seemed to think through the question before answering. "No. I mean, it should, because we have no way of knowing how much they're spying on us and I have a thing about my privacy, but it always feels like they are trying to help more than interfere, so I don't mind it the way I would if it were the guys from work constantly popping up to interject in our conversations."

The idea of Cal or Lester suddenly appearing in the middle of a private chat like this was amusing, and I couldn't stop myself from laughing again. "I'm happy around you," I announced out of the blue.

"I'm glad," he replied, much more serious than I was. "I can't believe a few weeks ago, I was counting down the days until the end of my life. And now, I feel like my life has started over completely new for me to do a better job of living it."

"Because you aren't focused on avenging your sister anymore?" I asked, hoping the missing weight of his revenge had made him feel lighter.

"Partly," he admitted. "But mostly it's because of you. I've got something to live for, new dreams to make, new joys to remember. I've got a life ahead of me to anticipate, instead of a past to regret. That's a feeling I didn't think I'd ever have again, so sacrificing my life was easy. Now that I have something to hang onto, the idea of just tossing away my life doesn't sit the same way."

"It damn well better not," I jumped in, hoping he understood how strongly I felt about this.

"How did I end up with such a bossy wife?" he teased.

"What did you expect?" I decided to toy with him in return. "You marry me without even asking and then start demanding I take your name and give you a purpose for living."

He cut off anything else I might have come up with by kissing me, passionately. By the time he pulled back, he was breathing heavy and I couldn't remember what I'd been saying in the first place.

I heard soft laughter coming from near the door and then Nagymama's voice taunting, "See, I told you we'd get more children in this house."

I pulled back from Manny's lips enough to see he had heard them, too.

"You said it didn't bother you," I reminded him, hoping he wasn't about to change his mind.

"I've lived without a family long enough that it seems wrong to be irritated by suddenly having one. Besides, my mom used to tell me when Laney was getting on my nerves to just ignore her and she would go away." He winked at me so quickly, I nearly missed the gesture. "Maybe that trick will work on them, too."

"Come, my love. I think they are on the right track enough for us claim a little privacy of our own," Nagypapa replied.

Three days later, I was amazed at how much better I felt. Manny had been right about me being sore from the night we were attacked, and it took a couple of days to get all the kinks out. Now I just had a pretty impressive set of fading bruises, but they didn't bother me for the most part. In fact, I'd woken up feeling so much better that I'd suggested we invite some of the guys over for cards and food to thank them for all they did to protect us. Manny had quickly agreed, saying he was sure the guys would like it, and if I wanted to open up the house, he was more than willing to put up with the guys trying to steal my attention away from him.

Having him all to myself these last days, talking and laughing without interruption, had made it hard to remember the rocky start we'd gotten when we first arrived in the house. Manny was a loving man, who made me feel absolutely adored. Because of my soreness and his injuries, we still hadn't moved our relationship to a fully physical place, but for the first time in my life, I didn't mind being restricted to just necking and petting. With Manny, it was erotic and exciting, instead of feeling like I was settling for something less than the main attraction. There was no doubt I wanted more, but this time was precious, and I knew that getting to know him so well first would only make it that much better when we finally did move forward.

Of course, standing in the kitchen looking at the pantry, I wondered what I had gotten myself into. We'd been supplied with more food from Ella, which had kept us well fed the last few days, but it wasn't exactly what I had in mind for game night snacks. When I'd called Cal and invited him over, he'd volunteered to pick up pizza from Pino's. I'd talked him into bringing beer, as well, which meant we technically had the meal covered, but I still felt the need to contribute. It seemed like a nice idea in theory...until I was faced with the kitchen and no idea what to do.

"A little help would be nice," I mumbled.

As soon as the words left my mouth, I felt a cool touch on my hand, and I relaxed. Nagymama knew her way around a kitchen well enough to help me come up with something. She led me to the box of recipes on the counter where I'd first discovered how easy it was to make French toast based on her notes. I ran my fingers over the top of the paper and followed her guidance to pull out a card that was titled, "Happy Honey Bars."

The ingredients began with peanut butter, which was a favorite of mine. The rest were nuts and seeds, which made them almost sound healthy, like some kind of power bar. But they were basically a mix in one big bowl and bake for a short period of time kind of food, which was right up my alley. At the bottom of the card, she'd added the words, "Guaranteed to make him happy."

That was all the commercial necessary for me to start pulling out the necessary ingredients. It wasn't until they were in the oven that I realized there was no sugar or honey in the bars, making me wonder where the name came from. By that time, they were beginning to fill the kitchen with a nutty smell, and I realized they smelled good enough to eat, so I quit worrying about whether or not they were sweet.

We set up some card tables in the middle of the den, and I was suddenly grateful that Bobby had gotten rid of the hospital bed. With that gone, the room was as big as I remembered, and I figured the group we had coming would be comfortable.

I cleaned the house and was surprised to realize how happy it had made me to get the place ready for company. I'd never thought of myself as domestic, but it was fun to plan for a party, especially for the guys that I cared so much for.

Just as I finished putting away the vacuum cleaner, Manny came in from the back patio.

He's spent the last two days making a new cane so that he could stain and treat the first one while having something to use for mobility while that one was drying. He'd insisted on going outside to sand this one down so that he didn't make a mess. But I could see from the fact he'd taken off his shirt while he was working that he really just liked the feel of being outdoors again. I completely understood the feeling. After being cooped up for so long, I found myself making excuses to open the windows and let in fresh air.

"What's got you so happy?" Manny asked, probably wondering if all the cleaning had caused me to finally snap.

"I like being here," I replied, feeling the truth as I spoke the words.

He moved closer to me so that he could circle an arm around my waist. "I like being here, too." Then he got that expression that told me a new thought had just struck him. "Do you think they mind us taking over their space?"

"No!" my great-grandparents practically shouted.

"I guess that clears up that little mystery," I replied, chuckling.

"When Edna comes again, we'll settle it with her. The house should be yours. It suits you, and because of your love for each other, we know you can be happy here," they explained.

I glanced at Manny, who seemed to be waiting on me to respond. "We do have jobs that we have to get back to soon," I warned them. "I have an apartment of my own, and Manny has one in the building where he works." I wanted them to realize that even though we wanted the house, we had two other places that were technically ours as well.

"But you do not work all the time," Nagypapa replied. "There is still time to get away and escape from the bustle of the big city."

I laughed at the idea of Trenton being the big city but didn't argue the point, either. "No, we don't work all the time." Plus, now that we were giving this whole married thing a try, it did seem silly to keep separate apartments and a house. Maybe it was finally time to get rid of my death trap of an apartment.

"We could definitely split our time between here and Haywood," I offered, not ready to delve into how we would make that work.

When Manny tightened his hold around me, I figured that was his way of letting me know he liked that idea.

"I had no idea you were such a fast mover, Mr. Ramos," I teased Manny.

"What?" He seemed confused, no doubt wondering why I was calling him fast, since we'd put the breaks on having sex so far.

"Married quick and now settling down with a house of your own. You're quite the family man, aren't you?"

My assumption had been he would either laugh or somehow try to blame me for the speed at which our lives had moved, but he did neither. Instead, his eyes filled with some sort of emotion, and he rested his forehead on mine.

"I think when you live without family, you don't realize how important it is. I was young when I lost my parents, so Laney and I were all we had. Then when I lost her, too, I felt completely alone. I knew I had the guys at the office, but that isn't the same thing as a real family. So, yeah, I think I'm a family man because I know what it's like to live without one and I know how precious this is between us."

Didn't that just melt a girl's heart? Manny had an unnerving way of saying exactly what he was thinking without trying to filter it. Now that I understood it was his way of being completely honest, I appreciated it. And when I heard him say things like that, I fell in love with him all over again.

"Come on." He began to push me backward down the hall. "I've gotten dirty outside, and I need a little help getting cleaned up before the guys get here in an hour."

Somehow, I managed to keep my head about me long enough to remember I had food in the oven, so I sent him down the hall to get started without me and pulled the bars out, setting them on the counter to cool.

We took it to the wire, losing track of time in the shower, so I was tying my hair back with another colorful scarf just as the doorbell rang. Manny beat me to the door, and I heard Cal announce his presence before the voices of Ranger, Lester, Bobby, and Tank all filled the house. I came down the hall, with a grin on my face, amazed at how much I loved the sound of a house full of people.

We jumped on the pizza immediately and then brought out cards to play a little poker. After an hour of talking smack and passing around chips like high rollers, I went into the kitchen and brought out the food I'd made, offering up a little prayer that I wouldn't poison anyone with my domestic efforts.

"What's that?" Cal asked as soon as I sat the platter down.

"They're just nut bars." I tried to blow it off and hoped no one picked up on my anxiety. "There's no sugar, so they're safe for you guys to eat."

Those were the magic words, as everyone moved to pick up one and immediately started snacking and dealing the next round. I was encouraged when they grabbed a second serving and had one myself, realizing that despite the lack of a sweetener, they were really good. Before I knew it, I'd had three as well.

Two hours later, the guys were clearly relaxed, though I don't know if it was the game or the amount of beer they'd been through. I was having trouble concentrating on my cards and had begun to play terribly as a result. I folded my current hand, not bothering to ask for any new cards, because I couldn't pay attention to what was in front of me, preferring to look at the guys instead.

I was one lucky woman to work with such good looking men. I took the time to really watch them as they taunted each other and threw out insults faster than I'd thought possible. When my eyes fell on Manny, they didn't move any farther. Suddenly, the lack of sex caught up with me, and I could feel my cheeks getting warm at the idea of getting my husband alone in the bedroom. Manny caught me staring at him and winked at me before folding his cards and putting his good hand under the table high on my thigh.

My eyes shut and I sucked in a deep breath, trying to control my reaction to the contact, but it was as though my hormones had a mind of their own and they'd been denied as long as they were willing. Regardless of how creative we needed to be tonight, I was going to have Manny one way or another.

When Manny's hand squeezed, I opened my eyes and looked at him. He studied my face first, and then he grinned at me and motioned for me to come closer. Despite the fear that I might not be able to control myself, I moved anyway and allowed him to whisper in my ear, "Why are you looking at me like you wish the guys weren't here and we were both naked?"

Then it hit me that it had been at least three days since I'd had a doughnut or any real sugar-laced food. "Do you know what I'm like when I don't have sugar?" I asked him a little louder than I'd intended.

The guys stopped playing, and I heard a single poker chip hit the top of the pile with a loud clink. Ranger was the first to speak.

"Babe, you haven't had sugar?"

Despite knowing my face was completely red, I still answered his question. "No. Since the whole Hernandez threat has been cleared, we haven't left the house, and it wasn't stocked with sweets."

Ranger's eyes cut to Manny quickly, and then he shook his head and smiled. "Gentlemen, I believe it's time to call it a night."

Lester complained, "Man, I was only a couple of good hands away from catching up with Cal."

"You'll have to try again another night," Ranger replied, still seeming to be more than a little amused by this new development.

Manny looked at me and asked, "Why are they leaving so quickly? Why does Ranger know about you and sugar, and what does it do to you when you don't have any?"

Those were all good questions and none that I wanted to explain at the moment. Fortunately, Bobby and Lester were complaining loudly enough about having their fun interrupted that I didn't have to respond right away.

Tank came over and kissed the top of my head, pulling the end of my scarf and smiling at it. "You're happy here," he pointed out, much more observant than people gave him credit for. "It suits you."

My arms reached around as much of him as I could manage, and I thanked him for coming.

"Anytime," he replied, seeming to be a little taken aback by my show of affection, but he took it in stride anyway. "It's comfortable here. A place you can just be yourself. It's been a long time since I felt that way about a place."

"Don't hog her, man," Lester demanded from behind the big guy in front of me. He hugged me tightly, lifting my feet off the ground. "You did good with Manny, Beautiful," he told me with his lips near my ear. "Thanks for letting us take over your home. This place is…great."

Despite his hesitation, his compliment sounded sincere, so I framed his cheeks with my palms and squeezed his face playfully to tell him, "You're welcome here anytime."

Bobby and Cal each took a turn thanking me for the night of fun and commented on how comfortable they were here. It was strange that the guys didn't seem to want to go, and then I remembered it was always like that when people came here. Something about this place drew people in and made them relax. I understood their hesitance to leave.

Ranger came by last and hugged me tightly. I returned his affection and sighed that his arms felt as good as they always had. Despite the chemistry between us definitely decreasing lately, there was no denying the appeal of Ranger, and my body knew intimately how good he could make me feel. Realizing this line of thinking was a bad idea, I pulled back and noticed him trying to keep from laughing.

"Stop that," I commanded, trying to look stern and failing.

"Have a good night," he said with a raised eyebrow that told me he knew exactly what kind of night I was going to have. Then he bumped fists with Manny and said, "Stay hydrated, man, and hang on for the night of your life."

The guys left right after that strange message.

As soon as I'd shut the door and reset the alarm, I went in search of Manny and asked, "What in the hell did Ranger mean by those comments?"

Manny laughed and said, "While the guys were telling you goodnight, he was explaining to me what sugar did to your hormones and the effect going off of it had on you. Then he pointed out that our bodies use protein to digest sugar and the bars you made are basically high protein bars, so you were already low on sugar and then you ate something that burned off whatever you might have stored away so that now you are running on pure hormones."

Damn, when he put it like that, the way I was feeling did make more sense. "I guess I know now why Nagymama called those Happy Honey Bars. The honey that they made happy must have been Nagypapa."

By the time I finished talking, I could tell that Manny's eyes looked darker, and he was so focused on me that I stepped backwards out of instinct to escape the intensity.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

It took two swallows to make my voice work. "Umm, to the bedroom."

He nodded, as though agreeing with that answer. Then he kept his eyes on mine but spoke to someone else. "You know that privacy you promised us?"

"Yes," rang the voices we had grown used to hearing.

"Now would be a good time to give it to us," Manny finished, basically telling my great-grandparents that we were going to have sex. "And you should keep giving it to us until at least sunrise tomorrow."

Fading laughter was the only response he got.

"Anything else you need to do before we reach the bedroom?" Manny asked, taking a step toward me.

"No," I managed to reply, wondering why I was practically shaking. I wasn't nervous, but the combination of desire and excitement was quickly building to a level I wasn't sure how to control. I'd never felt this wanton before and wondered if I should throw away the recipe for the bars so that I didn't do this to myself again.

"Don't you dare get rid of it," Manny commanded. "I've been waiting until I was sure you wanted me as much as I wanted you, and I think we are finally to that point."

"Trust me, I'm well past that point," I warned him, quickening the pace of our movement to the bedroom.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked, giving me a chance to back out once we were standing face to face at the edge of the bed.

I nodded, but that wasn't good enough.

"I need to hear you say it. I don't want to wonder later if I took away your choice or pressured you into consummating our marriage when you really didn't want to."

Considering the amount of time he'd spent pouting when we first got here because his choices had been ripped away from him, I knew how sticky this point was. He needed to hear me say that I wanted him, and I needed to say it in a way that removed all doubt.

"I want you, Manny Ramos," I began, placing my palms flat against his chest. "I want you beside me forever. In this moment, I want you connected to me in a way that goes beyond having sex. I need this, and I need you."

"Steph," he managed to get out, before giving up on saying anything else and just leaning down to kiss me instead.

I assumed my words were exactly what he needed to hear, because from that point on, he seemed to anticipate every need I had, touching, kissing, licking, caressing exactly where I needed him to.

By the time I finally felt sated, Manny looked pale, and I briefly wondered if I'd broken him.

Laughter from behind me alerted me to the fact I'd wondered that aloud.

"I'm not broken, but I am seeing the wisdom in Ranger's warning to stay hydrated."

I attempted to dig an elbow in his ribs, but he anticipated my movement and grabbed my arm to keep me from inflicting any pain for his comment.

He chucked at my attempt at violence and said, "I knew you weren't an angel."

I would have complained about that comment, but I was too exhausted to build up a head of steam, and after some of the things I'd just done and basically begged him to do to me, I figured he was actually right. "I never disagreed with you," I conceded.

He backed up enough to roll me onto my back so that I could see his face. "But the guys can go on believing it, because I'm the only one that gets to see the real you. The one that is everything they know _plus_ the passion—" he leaned down to kiss me to accentuate his point "—and the heat—" another kiss, this time with his tongue tracing my lips "—and the devoted love. That's all mine."

"Possessive, aren't you?" I nearly sighed into his mouth.

He made a noise that might have been agreement, but it wasn't coherent enough for me to interpret it. Finally, he explained himself. "I didn't think I would be, but holy hell, was I wrong. I want you to soar and have everything in life that you want, but at night, I want to have all those parts of you that no one else gets to see. When I say it out loud, I guess I am a little on the possessive side."

I decided to use his exhaustion against him, easily overpowering him to push him onto his back and climb back over his waist to straddle him.

"Good," I admitted, putting my hands on his chest to steady myself. Despite picking on him, I wasn't exactly stable here, either. "Because I want you to go be the world's biggest badass during the day and do all the things you want to, but at night, when it's just us, I want to be the one you talk to and share your space with. I want to be the one that you let in more than anyone else."

Manny touched my face tenderly. "I want this forever, not just for a while or until we get tired. I want to fight with you, to yell and scream and hear you call me a dick when I get too full of myself. I want to hold you when something happens that hurts you, and I want to feel the pain of every one of your tears when you share them with me. I want it all. Not just the easy parts, but all of it."

I nodded, understanding what he was after. "We didn't exactly start off with an easy part, so I think we'll be able to handle whatever comes," I pointed out. Then my mouth opened, and I blurted out, "Wow, those sounded a lot more like wedding vows than what I said when I was dressed in a big, poufy dress."

"Good," Manny responded, moving his hand to my hip, "because I meant them the same as if we'd said them in front of a priest in a church."

"Can it really be this easy?"

That thought made Manny chuckle. "Sweetheart, think back over our first two weeks together and tell me what part you are referring to as easy."

"When you put it like that, you owe me, mister," I huffed, pretending offense. "You put me through the ringer with how you treated me in the beginning."

I got the smile from Manny that I knew was mine alone. "That is a debt I'll gladly spend my life working off."

I collapsed on top of him and then slid off to the side to take my weight off his torso, loving the sound of him working off the debt but not really having the energy to exact the first payment from him now.

As I drifted off to sleep, I felt his arms tighten around me and felt him kiss my face.

"A lifetime and beyond, Steph. I can promise you that."

I felt a cool sensation on my hair that I now associated with my great-grandparents touching me, as well as the warmth of Manny's love inside me, and I finally allowed myself to believe in happily ever after – and beyond.

_A/N: Once again, we've come to the end of another journey. I can't thank you enough for all your reviews, your kinds words, and comments. Throwing in voices from beyond made this story a little unusual for me, but it was a lot of fun to think about what the loved ones of her past might say to guide her now. Thank you again for reading along, and for taking the time to hit that little button at the bottom of each chapter to let me know what you thought of the story. I'll be taking a few weeks off to get these characters out of my head and then I'll be back - with a Babe story._


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